


Blur One Shots (30 Day Challenge)

by mrquobinsonsrango



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: 90's Music, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Background Relationships, British, Britpop, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Illness, Minor Injuries, Multi, NSFW, One Shot, Other, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Pop Culture, Recreational Drug Use, Scars, Shortish depending on how motivated I feel to carry on with the story, Smut, blur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 48,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrquobinsonsrango/pseuds/mrquobinsonsrango
Summary: Every band member pairing is right here for you to read along with. Each day, I will be uploading a new one shot fic following along with the theme set by a prompt challenge I'm doing. I don't do requests but I can almost guarantee you that your fave pairing will be in here.
Relationships: Alex James/Dave Rowntree, Damon Albarn/Alex James, Damon Albarn/Dave Rowntree, Damon Albarn/Graham Coxon, Damon Albarn/Graham Coxon/Alex James, Graham Coxon/Alex James, Graham Coxon/Dave Rowntree
Comments: 85
Kudos: 62





	1. Getting Lost Somewhere (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Blur's 1995 US tour.

**Gramon Ft. A lot of playful teasing**

**POV Damon**

I don’t want to worry him as we wander up and down the streets. I see happy faces going about their day, walking to & from work most likely, some of them shopping perhaps. This plaza is narrow and the locals seem cheerful as they speak German quite chattily amongst each other. I smell freshly baked bread wafting about in the gentle breeze. I don’t want to worry Graham but I think we may be lost. We’ve walked past the same bank building three times already. He said he knew where he was going but I’m not exactly sure he does and he gets thingy about asking for directions sometimes. I think he just doesn’t want to confront that we’re in a city far from home and we are most definitely lost. 

“You two bicker like a couple of old women” Alex always says when Graham and I quibble over things like this. He’s right. We tsk and we tut at each other. We’re never really angry. How could I ever stay angry at him? He’ll give me the cold shoulder but when I do the same right back, suddenly he wants my attention. I like to make him work for it sometimes just for the hell of it. I love the way he strains to catch my eye whenever we’re having one of our playful feuds. He’ll give needy touches to my sides or he’ll try to hug me from behind. I’ll wiggle away and glance back at him with a jokingly disapproving shake of my head. He knows I still love him. But right now, he’s fussing and fidgeting as we wander about the streets of Hamburg. I take a breath and exhale softly. He’s going to be all pissy about it when I say this but it must be known.

“Graham, we’ve been up here at least four times. We’re lost and we’ve gotta get back to the bus before five. It’s already three thirty.” I show him the face of my watch before I let the sleeve of my blue and white tracksuit jacket slip back down my wrist. He rubs the side of his face and scrunches up his nose, pinching the bridge of it. I just know he’s about to protest my statement so I beat him to it.

“Gray, we seriously need to get back to the bus or everyone’s gonna be miffed with us for holding things up.” I stare at him as he purses his lips and tries to deny my statement in his mind but he knows it’s true. Even as I chew his ear like this, I can't help but to gaze at his features. His eyes are so doe-like and his lips are practically begging to be kissed. His face is art. He's the kind of man I could draw, paint or sculpt for hours if I knew how. I cough gently as I give him a slightly more expectant stare, raising one of my brows at him.

“Oh come on, Damon. How far away could it be? It’s not like we’re going to be wandering about till bloody midnight.” He’s determined in this stance but I know I can make him budge. I stay silent, continuing to stare up at him.

“Quit it with all that. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.” He’s fidgeting with his side belt loop as I try to fight down a smirk because I know my play is working. Although, he’s still gonna get a hickey for this late. I love paying him out like that. 

“Okay fine. But I’m going to be mortified if I have to ask for directions. It’s already embarrassing enough... And your German’s better than mine anyway.” He’s blushing slightly as he admits his defeat with the greatest of hesitation and I can’t help but find it as endearing as ever. I show a loving smile and furrow my brows as I try to remember the phrase I need before stopping us near a shop and catching the owner’s eye. For someone so sweet and amiable, he sure can be stubborn. I can't say I don't love it though.

“Entschuldigung. Was sind die anweisungen zu den Docks?” I try to speak these words clearly and politely. The old man smiles with recognition as he reaches over to pat my shoulder. 

“Ah, du bist Brite” He switches to thickly accented English with a kindly chuckle as he lets me know the way to the club we’re going to be playing tonight. I’m grateful. Graham stands just behind me and I glance back to see his arms are half folded as he nibbles his nails. I lightly roll my eyes at him before I direct my focus back to our new friend, the store owner.

“Danke.” I smile before I tug the upper arm of Graham’s sleeve, beckoning him to follow me on our new path. He knows I’m going to playfully hold this against him and I can just feel his shy gaze on my back. When the crowd thins out and I feel more at ease here knowing where we’re supposed to go, I drop back slightly to walk beside him and reach my hand out, giving a quiet mumble to signify my need for contact. I feel Graham’s fingers interweave with my own as our palms press together. His thumb strokes the knuckle of mine. I hear him sheepishly mumble.

“Your German is getting very good, love. Your accent still comes through though. You could make French sound British.” He gives a gentle murmur of a laugh. Everything about Graham is soft. It’s in the way he blows on his tea before he sips it, the way he cups my nape with his warm palm when we hug. It’s how he lets his breathing be shallow when I’m napping on him like a leopard draped on a branch because he doesn’t want to disturb my rest.

“Well, I figure I might as well learn it properly. We come here all the time and I always feel like such a tourist carrying around the little Berlitz book, you know? It’s just one of those things I’d like to have under my belt.” I smile smugly to myself as Graham lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me a little closer as we walk together. I glance up at his sweet expression, his thick, dark rimmed glasses perched on his face and framing his features, and I feel a warmth in my chest that’s become quite a common sensation for me now.

“Glad to know someone thinks I’ve cleaned up my German. Alex keeps making fun of me just cause he knows how to pronounce umlauts. Cheeky bastard. You really should let me kick his arse some time.” Graham ruffles my hair because he knows it pisses me off. Holding my nape with his palm, I feel his plush lips press against my temple in a soft peck.

“Whatever you say, Dames,” he pauses for a little moment. I can tell he’s thinking. The cogs turn behind his eye before he glances to me once again and whispers in my ear. “Day, I love everything about you.” There’s that cosy, warm ‘heart doing gymnastics’ feeling in my chest again.

“I love everything about you too. Even your inability to ask for directions.” I cackle softly as I feel his jokingly annoyed stare on me. Nothing is perfect, but he’s as close as you can get to it.

_-fin-_


	2. Pet Names (Gralex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in 1990 so enjoy the mental images of bowl cuts that will evoke, ahaha

**Gralex**

**POV Graham**

The cold wind nips at my cheeks and rouges them as I walk my way back home from the shops, plastic bags heavy and cutting into the creases of my palms. I enter the front gate and walk up to the door, setting down a bag so I can knock as I call out.

“Fellas, it’s me. I’m back. Open up please. I’m freezing out here!” I’ve lived in this dingy, red brick, two-up two-down flat with Alex, Dave and Damon for a year and a half now. It’s one of those places that look like they fell off a production line one after the other during the industrial revolution. The outside is flanked with ivy and dotted with spots of lichen. Some of the brickwork higher up has softer, rounded edges from acid rain. 

I rock from my heels to my tip-toes to try and stay warm as I wait for my flatmates to let me in. I hear someone shuffling to the front door and it swings open to reveal Damon. His grey t-shirt is creased and his hair is all fucked up on one side. I must have awoken him. He glances up at me with a sleepy smile and steps aside to let me in, taking one of the plastic bags from my hand to relieve the load. He yawns into the back of his hand, his fingers stretching as he does so.

“D’you get my veggie burgers, Gray?” He blinks lazily as he plops himself down on a seat at the kitchen table. I place the bags on the table as well so I can start sorting out the groceries. I hand him the cardboard packet of meatless patties and he gives a bleary smile.

“You know it’s about three in the afternoon, don’t you?” Dave, Alex and I always make a point of giving Damon heaps when he sleeps in. “You look like you got shot out of a cannon. What do you even do during the night to get your hair like that?” 

He squints at me with a playful scowl before he mumbles “Yer mum.” All I can do is roll my eyes. “Besides, you wouldn’t be having a go at me if I were Alex now, would you?” I shoot him a ‘shut your trap’ kind of glare before the aforementioned man comes downstairs in a baggy football jersey and boxers, and wanders over to rest his pale hands on my shoulders, rubbing them as he leans over to kiss my temple. I tilt my head into it slightly.

“Thanks for doing the shopping, sweet potato,” he whispers in my ear and I get a faint chill “Missed you so very much.”

I don’t want to have to use our pet names in front of Damon because I find it absolutely mortifying but it seems that Alex is determined to get me to.

“Missed you too, pumpkin.” He gives my shoulders a light squeeze before he starts sorting out the groceries as well. I notice a small grin on his face when he spots the bottle of wine I bought. It’s not expensive but it’s one he’s been dying to try and I’m sure he’s happy I remembered. I always make note of things like that. By the time everything is stored away, I give a brief thumbs up to Damon before I wander upstairs to my room. The walls have hairline cracks that have been plastered over and opened up again. There’s always a very faint scent of mildew that I’ve had to cover up with patchouli but despite this flat’s delightful decrepitude, it’s home. I open the door to see that my bed is all made and the floor is tidy once more. The cleaning fairy? Perhaps. More likely my kind-of, sort-of boyfriend decided that he wanted to surprise me with a tidy room. It means more than he’ll ever know. I take off my shoes, hang up my jacket and flop over onto my bed. The sheets smell clean as I take a deep breath. The birds outside tweet and twitter as I quite happily zone out, that is until I hear the lazy padding of bare feet against carpeted floors. The bed shifts and creaks before I feel Alex lay his body down on top of mine, his face nuzzling between my shoulder blades as he mutters.

“Finally got you to say it, sweet potato. You don’t need to be so shy around the guys. Damon knows you’re a softie anyway.” He moves up a little and kisses my nape.

“I know, honey. I’m just… I’m just odd about it sometimes. I think I’m just still getting used to being out to Dave and Dames. It feels like yesterday that you had to sneak into my room for us to have some time together.” I shift a little and roll over underneath Alex, letting my thighs rest at his sides as he rests his cheek against my chest and I stroke his long, floppy brown hair away from his face.

“I know how you’re feeling. I’m just trying to give us a little shove. We need to learn to be ourselves, you know? Especially around the guys. We can trust them. They care.” He knows he’s right so there isn’t much point in me saying more on the matter. I know he’s right too. I twirl a strand of his hair around my finger and gaze down at his big brown eyes. The details of his face are part chiseled, part cherubic. A glorious mixture of masculine and feminine features. It takes me a moment to distract myself. I like to study him like an artist studies their muse but sometimes, I forget to be his boyfriend or… Or whatever we are.

That’s the other thing I’m still trying to wrap my head around as of late. I don’t know what Alex sees me as. When he lays on my body like this and gazes up at me as though I put the stars in the sky, I wonder why we haven’t properly said ‘You are my boyfriend and I’m yours too’ or anything along those lines. But then he’ll come back to the house with smudges of lipstick all over his neck or the scent of someone else’s cologne on his skin and I’m scared to be just one in a list of many flings he’s had along the way. At 21, I’ve only had a couple partners. He definitely has an edge on me in that department. The words are bubbling just beneath the surface and I can’t hold them down.

“Alex. What are we? What am I to you?” He tilts his head and rests his chin on my sternum. I see how hard he’s thinking about this. It’s like there’s something he wants to say but he just doesn’t know the words.

“Well, I don’t know how you feel about us but to me, you’re like… What’s the right word for it? You’re like a place I can call my own. Nothing else makes sense but when I’m with you, things feel okay. Like I feel like I don’t have to pretend with you. I guess I want to be someone you can call yours. O-Or something like that. I don’t know.” I’ve never heard Alex stutter before. This must mean something to him or else he’d still have his cool, calm demeanor. I caress his cheek with my palm and run my forefinger up his jawline before resting it under his chin. I tilt his head up just a little to be lightly cheeky.

“I guess I want that too, pumpkin.” I utter. He crawls a little up my body and we share chaste, dainty kisses. This isn’t his usual style. Alex usually kisses to fuck. This feels tender and sweet. This feels like a boyfriend. This feels like home.

_-fin-_


	3. Patching Each Other Up (Davlex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Drug use.
> 
> Set in 1992 just for reference :) Also I've noticed each chapter is getting longer so hopefully my writing is getting better. Would love some feedback in the comments if you'd like to leave some :)

**Davlex Ft. A slow burn ahahaha**

**POV Alex**

We hoot and holler as the four of us wander up the street arm in arm, other friends straggling just behind us in the birthday party. Today, I turned twenty four and to celebrate, my bandmates decided it would be a capital idea to take me out on the pub crawl to end all pub crawls. There would not be a hotel that we didn’t invade like a plague of locusts and leave barren of their wares.

“If you can feel your legs by sunrise, we’ve failed you as friends.” said Graham at the beginning of the night. He’d already had a couple drinks so he was getting quite jolly. Graham was an interesting kind of drunk. He’d either get very loud and sing or he’d become quiet and affectionate, confessing his undying appreciation and care for his friends or anyone who happened to be caught in the crossfire of his loving proclamations.

It’s a raucous night of boozing and bouncing from pub to pub the moment that one kicks us out for already being off our trolleys. By about the fourth or fifth pub, we manage to make our way to a discotheque that’s positively throbbing with bass. The feeling of bass surrounding me was one of ecstasy. To stand in a room and have music resonating through my body is always such a thrill. I think that’s part of the reason I live for parties. The fanfare, the noise, the hustle and bustle of it all. It’s irresistible, truly. The lads are constantly hugging me and wishing me a happy birthday with their slurred words and their turned-up lovey attitudes. I love the attention but I need a moment to be anonymous so I take some time away to go out onto one of the balconies for a smoke.

The packet of cigs in my back pocket is crumpled up and kind of flat so I’m careful not to further fuck up the cigarettes as I draw one out and hold it between my lips, glancing over at a nearby party-goer to light it for me. She’s tall, shapely and her hair is bleached platinum blonde and poker straight. She seems like a mystery so I hold her gaze as I take a drag of my cigarette, wondering if she’s interested in me as I look her up and down. She does the same to me and shakes her head, quite simply signalling to me that I’m barking up the wrong tree. Her walk is dignified and elegant as she wanders past me and palms off a ziplock bag of tablets into my hand. Molly, no doubt. I spend the next short while gazing out across the visible skyline as I spend my time exhaling ghostly puffs of smoke into the air. I practice my smoke rings while there’s no one around.

Excited by my find however, I make my way back through the crowd after my smoke. I get distracted a few times along the way as people probably already high on the Love Drug rope me into affectionate embraces. One young man holds me by my hips and stares at me for a brief moment before I hold his jaw, tilt my head and gaze rather deeply into his eyes. He won't remember me in the morning but I want him to think about me all night. I lean in and kiss him rather passionately. Our tongues dance against each other and I can barely think straight from the booze before I teasingly tear away from that kiss. Maybe this joint is a little more exciting than I first thought? I sit my ass down in the booth that the boys managed to stake their claim to, sliding in to sit beside Dave as I pop one of the ecstasy tablets now in my back pocket. He glances at me with caring concern and pats my knee, his voice full of apprehension. Dave likes to party as much as anyone else but he’s very much the dad friend.

“You good there, Alex? What did you just take? Figure one of us should know in case things go pear-shaped with your trip.” Dave has this look about him that reminds me of a renaissance painting as the lights strobe against his features. He’s not pretty like some folks but he has this unconventional beauty about him with his coppery red hair and his striking blue eyes. I… I catch myself staring, if I’m honest.

“It’s just an ecky, Dave. Don’t get your knickers in a knot about it. I’ve seen you do worse in broad daylight.” I tap my nostril and wink at him. He and I are both rather smitten with the white powder. I'm lucky enough that I've only had a couple of bad trips. Dave always knows where to find the good, uncut stuff. He doesn't seem impressed with my nostril-tapping gesture so I give him a poke in the side to try and get a laugh out of him. His laugh is unenthusiastic in response but at least he's not staring at me with disapproval. It stings more coming from him. I think I've always looked up to Dave in a way, him being four years my senior. Plus, the both of us being in the rhythm section has meant we have to be on the same page, seeing through each other's eyes. He's quite introspective. Sometimes I wish I could crawl inside his mind and live there for a day. I like to daydream sometimes about what he's thinking at any given moment... What he thinks of me, perhaps.

"Oh just shut up. Don't bite off more than you can chew, alright? You know how you can get carried away like that." He pats my upper arm in a friendly way but something feels different. His hand lingers for a little longer than usual and there's a very faint squeeze before he lets go. I think I like it.

"Dave, you know when you say stuff like that that I take it as a dare." I give him a cheeky smirk and glance away before turning my focus back to him with a small smile. Things are almost silent in my mind as I look at him. He returns to chatting with the guys. He's articulate and thoughtful in his words even when he's three sheets into the wind.

With a bit of time, we all get tired of this club and decide it's best to take our patronage elsewhere or wrap up the night. I follow the guys out of here and we wander off down the street. Cobblestone glisten faintly in the moonlight as we trundle along. Dave hangs back as Damon and Graham loop their arms around mine to support me. I can feel his eyes on me. I can't say they're in much of a state to be supporting me. Soon enough, they split off from the group to head on home. Dave and I are by ourselves at this point.

The breeze bites with an undeniable chill and my teeth start to chatter as we near home. We walk in silence for the most part, quiet remarks about the weather being exchanged until, knock me down, a cobblestone takes me by surprise and I end up stumbling over my lanky self. My limbs flail and before I know it, I'm on my back, my knees and elbows scraped up rather badly.

"Fffff-... FUCK, IT HURTS." I whine as I clutch my knee close to my chest

"Holy fuck, you ate shit!" Dave scrambles to help me up to my feet and guides me over to a nearby low, stone wall for me to sit on. I hold onto his shoulder as he crouches beside me and rolls up the leg of my jeans to reveal my skinned knees. The grazes are almost bluish in the moonlight but I know they're angry as hell and I can't help but wince as the cold night air hits them. I can see my breath as I grip Dave's shoulder and he gently shushes me. He takes a water bottle from his worn out leather sachet and lightly splashes the water against my knees to wash away any grit and fuzz from my wounds. Despite my intoxicated state, it still stings righteously and I grimace as he dries off the grazes with a tissue.

"Fuckin piece of shit lane. Piece of shit cobblestone. Piece of shit gravity." I mutter sorely as I watch him tending to my scrapes with a careful touch. I catch myself staring again at his light eyelashes and the way they catch the moonlight, reflecting it quite beautifully as he looks up at me. In that moment, I feel more seen than I ever have in my life. It’s like he’s looking straight through my body and into my chest. He sees my beating heart.

“Dave-”

“Shut _up_ , Alex.” he practically launches forward and holds my face as our lips make impact against each other. My mind and my heart melt as our mouths work on one another in a heartfelt battle. I grip onto the front of his shirt as I lean more into the kiss. It feels as though we’re finally pulling the pin on a grenade of passion that’s just been waiting for years to go off. It’s like kissing that bloke back at the club but this time, I actually feel something going on in my chest and in my gut. I want to pull him closer. I want my skin to merge with his. I want to be one. This feels like more than the molly could ever simulate.

He pulls away before me, giving a couple of soft kisses to the side of my face and my jawline. I have no idea how to even function after that. My pupils are slightly blown out as I gaze at him. I’ve almost completely forgotten about my scraped up knees as I murmur, supporting his elbows with my palms.

“That was quite something. I didn’t even know you felt that way about me. Or swung that way.” He helps me up to my feet once more and rests his arm around my waist to support me as I hobble along.

“Well, I have plenty to tell you when we get back to the house, don’t I? But first I’ll get you bandaged up.” He chuckles almost dreamily as the two of us adjourn to the flat. Needless to say, it was a particularly enjoyable birthday.

_-fin-_


	4. Hospital Visit (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for illness and surgery.  
> Set just before The Great Escape was released in '95.

**Gramon**

**POV Graham**

After what had felt like months, inspiration finally struck Damon and he began to write again. I think he’d been scared of falling under the indie label but had finally broken out of that style and embraced pop with open arms. The material he’s come up with for our latest album is moodier, more edgy. He’s hit on something less local and I think we might be onto a good thing.

Recording the new songs today was arduous and mentally draining. Getting back home feels like reaching the pearly gates. We shower. We comb our hair. We brush our teeth. We change into our sleep clothes. I turn off the bedside lights, snuggle up behind Damon and wrap my arms around his middle, lazily stroking his sternum as I nod off to sleep. Days are long and tiring but evenings are peaceful for us. I bury my face into the back of his shoulder as I hold him near. He feels warm… Soft. His t-shirt is baggy so I pull my hands back a little and slip them under the worn fabric just to be closer to him. I hear him mumble a weary “I love you.” and I reciprocate the sentiment before giving his earlobe a light peck and drifting off to sleep.

My favourite part of sleeping is the predictability of it. I know that if I shut my eyes for long enough, I’ll open them again and find that the world is bright and the air is essenced with the aroma of coffee brewing. This morning, however, is different because when I wake up, I see that the room is still dark and Damon’s still laying in my arms but he’s wriggling about uncomfortably and clutching the right side of his abdomen, groaning my name.

“Baby? Wha-... What’s up? You feel hot.” He does. His skin feels like it’s on fire and he’s shivering profusely. My own hands start to shake as my fear settles in. I’m not always the most calm and collected under pressure like this but I know when something needs to be done.

“G-Graham, something’s wrong. Fuck, ah!” he winces as he rolls over onto his back, his knees slightly tucked up. “Gray, we need to go see a doctor. Something’s very fucking wrong.” He tries to sit up but folds up in pain as a result. I help him get upright and rub his lower back as he deals with the pain. I can hardly think of a coherent thought because it panics me to see him suffering.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna uh… I’ll think of something.” I dash about the room to put on some trackpants and a crew neck jumper before I grab his dressing gown, helping him slip each arm into the sleeves before I tie it around his waist and get some slippers on his feet.

Over the next few minutes, I manage to help my boyfriend make his way to our car and I buckle him up into the passenger seat, plopping myself into the driver’s seat and reaching over to touch his forehead. He’s burning up. This whole effort is punctuated by my panicked fretting and his pained groans and whimpers. Thankfully the roads aren’t busy tonight so we’re able to get to the nearest hospital in very little time at all. This is undoubtedly an advantage as Damon’s abdominal pains seem to worsen and he clings tightly to my hand as he hobbles into the waiting room.

“Just here, baby. That’s it.” I help him lower into a seat and get comfortable beside him.

Damon wraps his arms around one of mine and rests his head against my shoulder. There’s a grimace on his face as he shuts his eyes. I figure he’s anticipating a long wait before we’re attended to.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gray. You’re my knight in shining armour.” He gives a quiet groan into my arm and I kiss the top of his head. 

When it comes to PDAs, I don’t really care about what others think in times like these. The one I love needs comfort and if someone in this waiting room has a problem with it, they can take it up with me. I shut my eyes as well and try to rest to pass the time before we’re seen too. Eventually, in the wee hours of the morning, Damon is diagnosed and taken in for an emergency surgery. The staff don’t tell me much aside from “inflammation” and “risk of sepsis requiring removal”. I can only assume that he must have appendicitis. 

People come and go from the waiting room. It’s instances like these that I wish I had my notebook and a pen so I could sketch the people I see drifting in and out of the ER at various points of the night. The wait feels like forever before I finally see a surgical nurse enter this waiting area, taking off their mask. She's a young, black woman with a couple of 4C curls poking out from under her disposable cap. She radiates a comforting energy as she walks over to stand before me.

"You're the gentleman that came in with Mr Albarn?"

"Mhm, I am."

“Mr Coxon, Damon is doing just fine. The surgery went smoothly and we’re certain his appendix won’t be giving him anymore trouble. Successfully removed it. He’s just waking up from the anaesthesia now if you’d like to come see him.” I thank her immensely in my own sheepish way and get up, my legs slightly wobbly from sitting for so long. 

She guides me to his room and shuts the door after me so we can have some time alone. As I walk into the room, I see the figure of my boyfriend laying amongst the clean blue and white blankets. Something twinges in my chest though. He looks so… So small and fragile. It gets me quite choked up to see him looking so weak. His hair is all squiffed up where he lays on his side and I need to swallow down the lump in my throat before I sit down in the chair beside his bed. I keep my tone soft and my voice quiet so as not to startle him awake.

“Dames, it’s me. I’m here.” There’s a glint of recognition in his eyes as he looks up at me and gives a bleary grin. 

He reaches out to hold my hand and I see the tubes taped in place in his arm, the hospital band adorning his wrist. I’ve never noticed how thin his wrists are before. The tears begin to well up in my eyes as I hear his croaky voice.

“Boy, am I glad to see you?” he utters. Damon sniffles slightly and continues to smile up at me as though I invented sunlight. Damn my bottom lip. It insists on quivering as I lean over and kiss his forehead, a tear trailing swiftly down my cheek and landing on his face. I brush it away with my thumb as I give a shy chuckle.

“You scared me, Day. I thought you were dying or something.” My forehead feels at home against his as my palm caresses the side of his neck. I feel the slightest hint of stubble.

“It’s my job to give you panic attacks, is it not?” How dare he make me giggle at a time like this. I wipe my tears away with the heel of my palm.

“I know, babe. I know. Just not with things that could genuinely be a problem. Like potentially ruptured organs and what not,” a strange sense of calm descends upon the room. Knowing he’s safe, knowing he’s been mended brings me deep comfort and I pray that the staff here will let me stay the night. I kiss the corner of Damon’s lips as I whisper, “Damon?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna go anywhere tonight. You can count on that.”

“I’m well aware of this. I hope you at least take bathroom breaks though,” he mutters. Once again, he elicits a chuckle from me, “At least maybe I’ll get a cool scar to show off to the guys.”

“Yeah, I have to admit that’s pretty hot,” I whisper lovingly, brushing his skewiff blonde fringe back from his face, “I mean it when I say I’m not going to leave your side till you’re allowed out. Not for a second. Not for the blink of an eye.”

“I know,” His palm is warm and nowhere near as calloused as my own as he lays it against my cheek, his thumb tracing my brow bone, “I know…”

  
  


_-fin-_


	5. Scar Worship (Dalex) NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Reference to previous self harm. of course these references are not graphic and i try to keep them subtle cos i'm aware of how with topics like this, it can be very sensitive. i used to self harm as well so i don't take this lightly or use it for the pathos. nor do i aim to romanticize self harm. i'm here to promote self love and empowerment.
> 
> Set during Britain's 1995 heatwave. Tried to make that part as accurate as possible.
> 
> Also NSFW so yea!

**Dalex (Trigger warning. Referenced/Implied previous self harm)**

**POV Damon**

What do you do during a heatwave when your AC is fucked and your mates are summering in Mallorca so you can’t even go over to their place to cool down? Well, if you’re Alex and I, you open up all the windows and laze about the house with very little on. We haven’t dated for long so this is probably one of the first big steps we’ve made towards being comfortable in our bodies around each other. I’m used to seeing him from neck to ankles in black so of course I still get taken by surprise when I see him walk past me in his loose tank top and pajama shorts as I lay on the couch, pretending to watch the TV. My mind is far away and the news is merely ambiance.

“ _Temperatures are expected to reach a high of 35 degrees celsius on Tuesday. The heatwave we are experiencing is the hottest on record since 1659 and the driest on record since 1766…”_

Hot. Dry. Lord above, that’s all I’ve heard for the last two hours. Something odd is going down. To be fair, I could change the station but the remote is on the coffee table and I’m all the way over here, two feet away on the couch. I’m practically stuck to it. The drone of the TV is mind-numbing and I’m on the verge of falling asleep. That is until I hear slow, quiet footsteps and a cold feeling slides down my back, sending a chill up my spine that startles the everliving fuck out of me. A goddamn ice cube. I don’t know why I’m still surprised. This is the third fucking time he’s done it today. I think it’s for the attention.

I jump up in a hurry and brush the frosty little chunk off my back before I go racing over to Alex who’s already trying to hightail it away from me. I snag the back of his tank top and tackle him to the floor.

“Forgive me! I’m sorry! Lemme up, just lemme up!” he protests. He’s laughing his ass off and his grin is smug as I straddle his lower back and pin his arm behind him but not enough for it to hurt.

“Never, you fucking scoundrel. Fuckin’ arsehole. This is the last straw. You drop an ice cube on my back one more time and I’m emptying the tray down your fucking shorts. Understand? Comprende?”

“Comprende, Damon. I’ll hold off on the ice cubes. I swear an oath on m’Nan’s pearl necklace.” he giggles out.

I let him up, climbing off of his back and laying down on the floor beside him. The floor beneath us is covered in shag carpet. It itches my back slightly but I don’t care to focus on it much as I gaze at Alex, giving his upper arm a playful little shove.

“You’re just a grotty bastard. A no-good, cheeky little shit.” I whisper. He knows I don’t mean a word of these insults. He rolls over onto his side and lays his hand over my heart. It’s warm but I don’t mind the touch. Quite like it actually. He drags his middle fingertip up and down the length of my ribcage.

“Well, if I’m a grotty bastard, then you’re an utter twink.” He chides me lovingly.

“I thought you’re supposed to say something I don’t already know,” I blush as I laugh at this folie and let out a relaxed sigh. When we’re like this, I can forget about the suffocating heatwave we’re in. I hear an ambulance wailing far off in the distance as Alex continues to lock eyes with me. His touch moves to my midsection as I murmur “I want to see more of you.”

He pulls back a little and sits up, grabbing the neckline of his tank top and removing it over his head before flicking the flimsy garment onto the couch with a graceful gesture. He lays back down, propped up on one elbow as he reclines beside me, almost over me. I think I know what’s going down.

“How’s this then?” There’s something dirty about his gaze but I love it

“S’okay, I guess,” I give a small shrug as I lay with my hands resting on my stomach, “I could deal with seeing a little more though.” I murmur in a coy tone.

He sits back up and slides off his pajama shorts to reveal his boxer briefs. His hips are angled and beautiful. The shapes are smooth but with rough trajectories. 

“I’d love to see more of your body, D.” I should have seen this coming. I’m feeling slightly on edge at the moment as I comply, sitting myself up and taking off my t-shirt. I’m not sure he can see my scars just yet but if another item of clothing is requested for removal, he might see the straight, white lines that mark my hip bones. They’ve been more noticeable since I’ve tanned this summer.

“Bit more?” he coyly requests. I know I don’t have to do this. I know he doesn’t expect me to, but I want to. I lay on my back and lift my hips, shimmying off my shorts as well. My briefs are low cut and my marks are on display. Alex doesn’t even flinch at what he sees. A slight blink but that’s all. He seems completely unphased by the scars and proceeds to shift over me, laying himself down between my legs, his elbows resting on the floor as he holds my waist. I gaze up at the ceiling as he lays kiss after kiss against my scars. I count them. One for each thin white line. Fuck him for being so kind. For being so understanding. I have to catch a brief breath as he kisses across from one hip to the other, my skin sensitive and unacquainted with his contact. He’s making my mind race with the possibilities we could unlock if I were to give a sound or… Or perhaps if I slid my fingers into his mop of hair. I’m tempted.

He whispers against my hip bone as he stares up at me with those chocolate brown eyes. "You're not alone in this, baby. I'm just sorry you had to go through that,” he continues to kiss my hips and the plane between them, glancing up at me every so often, most likely gauging my level of comfort. That’s when he reaches up to clutch at my chest. I study his arm and on the side, I see familiar white lines in a neat, close pattern of stripes. It kills me to know he’s felt the things I have but I know this moment is a celebration of us and our progress. Something for us to get lost in and God, do I get lost when his kisses migrate lower and he drags down the waistband of my underwear. I give in and grab onto his strands as the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands on end. 

His bobbing motion is steady and consistent. My head is swimming. He moans as he works on me.My heart is racing. His hand is soft and applies just the right amount of pressure. I try so hard not to move my hips but it’s almost impossible not to let them shift with how sensitive I am to this stimulation. Occasionally I get a little too into it and press his head down with my palm, this earning a slap on my thigh. Soon enough I can’t handle anymore and my body is flooded with pure bliss through every square inch. I am on fire and so is my world.

I let my head rest on the floor as I pant breathlessly, running my fingers through his hair and rubbing his scalp where I tugged on his locks, hearing a faint pop. My breathing becomes slow and easy once again as I watch Alex slide my underwear back up in place. He crawls up my body and my lips meet his with a strong kiss, letting my tongue come into contact with his. I try to reach down and massage his crotch but he takes a hold of my wrist and guides my hand away in such a gentle gesture.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. This was all for you,” he mumbles between tender kisses, “I can wait for another time.”

Eventually our kisses peter off and he rolls onto his back, letting me lay on his chest. A dreamy feeling descends upon me. The golden haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

  
  


“You know, if it wasn’t so damned hot, I’d probably be under the covers in bed holding you,” he murmurs with a tone in his voice that suggests there’s more to say but he’s making me wait for it as his fingertips drag slowly up and down my spine, eliciting tingles of anticipation for his words, “But I suppose I could run a cool bath and we could relax in there. Bath salts. Candles. Chocolate. What do you say?”

“I think I say ‘Yes please, Mr James’.” I hear him give a sniff of amusement at that.

“I think I need to drop ice cubes down your back more often.”

_-fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty to my wonderful friends who have been proof-reading my writing for me. you're amazing xo


	6. Making Fun Of Each Other (Davham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set roughly around 2016-2017

**Davham ft. Very soft domestic marital bliss.**

**POV Dave**

Graham and I have been together quite a while now. I think about the spring of ‘99 is when we decided to get serious and put a label on it. We’ve been living together at least since ‘02. Married in 2013. The wedding, speaking of, was an absolute mess. Groomsmen were hungover as all get-go. It started raining midway so we had to move all the gear for the reception indoors. Overall a disaster. It was the best day of my life. 

That being said, It hasn’t always been easy, if I’m honest. I’ve seen Graham at his worst, he’s seen me at mine and yet, through all the drugs and the drink, we’ve managed to keep it together. He loves me despite the ways I’ve behaved and the things I’ve unknowingly put him through. I always made it clear to him that if he ever wanted to leave, I’d be sad but I’d know that it’d be for the best because he doesn’t take decisions like that lightly.

For the last few years though, we’ve been better than ever. We’ve been absolutely golden, if I do allow myself to brag a little. We’ve come into our own as people and I don’t think anything could break our ironclad bond. Lord knows there’s been plenty of times that were enough to test its strength. He’s always wholeheartedly supported my political and musical careers and honestly, what can I ask for more than someone to have my back when I put myself out there?

As I sit here on the couch with him, a thick woolen blanket draped across our laps as we sip at our piping hot cups of tea, I feel Graham shift to place his mug aside on the coffee table. His arms wrap around my waist as he settles against my side. His head rests against my shoulder and I can smell that his hair is freshly washed, notes of a fruity scented shampoo dwelling in the space between us. I know he likes more woody, ocean-y smells so my shampoos always end up being called “Sea Breeze” or “Lush Pine Forest” or something like that. I buy them myself. I know I don’t need to but I like to remind him of his favourite things. I kiss his crown and hear a discreet, goofy giggle. He’s in one of those cheeky bastard moods he gets.

“Useless bit of ginge.” he teases.

“Four eyes.” I shoot back as if it’s second nature.

“Matchstick.”

“Big nose.”

“Little Orphan Annie.”

Goddamnit, he’s beat me again.

“Fuck, I can’t think of another one.”

Graham grins as he reaffirms his snug embrace around my waist. I lay my arm around his shoulders and rub his upper arm, giving it a momentary squeeze. Glancing down, I see the bluish haze of the TV screen lighting up his face and reflecting against his glasses. The wildlife documentary we’re watching feels completely superfluous compared to the sight that beholds me right here. The man I love just enjoying life and feeling so at ease. When I see him this happy, it’s hard not to think about the times I’ve seen him struggle and suffer. The day that Alex, Damon and I made the decision to ask him to leave the band. The days after he decided to get sober. The days prior to that decision. The days that he wasn’t sober. The times he’s had to deal with the worst sides of me and my former addictions. 

I have to remind myself that without these struggles, we wouldn’t be here where we are now. It took the pain and hurt to help us reach this place of joy we now inhabit. This place in which we can lay about on the couch, playfully insult each other and not have a care in the world.

Right this moment, I can hear Graham subtly humming tunes that I’ve never heard before, most likely something he’s composing in his mind. Since he was asked to work on that Netflix series for the soundtrack, he’s stowed himself away in our at-home studio. Sometimes I'll bring in a cup of tea for him and he'll stop everything just to sit and enjoy a cuppa with me. He knows how to prioritise the little things that matter most.

With all the new work, I don’t see a lot of him from day to day but I’m still just overjoyed to know that his talents are recognized and valued in a solo capacity. His joys are my joys too. He yawns softly and speaks through it.

“Firecracker.” He mumbles.

“Complete and utter nerd.” I offer back.

“Jazz band reject.”

“J-... Jazz band reject?” I query.

“The joke is that you don’t have a soul. Cause y-”   
  
“I get it. You win again.”

“Face it, Dave. You’re just too kind to pull out the big guns.”

“I pride myself in not being mean to you in any serious way.” I can’t help but give a contented chuckle when I look down and see just how sweet and doe-eyed he is as he stares up at me. This man. Honestly. He glances down at my lips and we share the kind of kiss that married couples do. It’s not a long kiss but it’s full of a deep love that does not require grand gestures or heated passion to make itself known. He’s quite frankly my universe. We pull away from that kiss and the world feels silent, unmoving as we lock eyes. We lean in slower this time. I lay my palm on the side of Graham’s neck. My thumb tucks just beneath his earlobe and I whisper briefly.

“You must be magic. A dream. A figment of my imagination.”

We share slow, tender kisses. He breaks away for just a second.

“I’m as real as the grit beneath your nails.” I have no idea how the fuck he made a phrase like that sound romantic but he did. Graham has an incredible way of coming up with the most beautiful, earthy, heartfelt ways of professing his thoughts and feelings. Part of his many charms. We smile against each other's lips.

We return to our scheduled programming of giving each other more loving kisses. It’s like the world around us could fall to pieces around our house and leave us floating about through space and time but it wouldn’t matter a hill of beans to us right now.

The movement of our lips starts to slow down with time. I’ve lost track of how many minutes have passed but I can tell by the way that my husband nestles his cheek against my shoulder that it’s well and truly time for bed. Before shifting away from him and getting up off of the couch, I kiss the top of his head. 

"C'mon up, Gray." He groans with a hint of effort as he sits up and reaches for me. I lift him up and his legs secure themselves around my waist as I support his thighs, bracing myself to carry him upstairs to our bedroom. I remember doing this on our wedding night and the both of us immediately falling asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow. We were absolutely exhausted. Not exactly the most romantic way to spend your wedding night but I think it was befitting for us as a couple. When have we ever followed convention?

Once we ascend the stairs, I turn down the dimmer on our bedroom's lights and lay my husband down on the bed, lifting the covers over him as I discover that he must have fallen asleep about halfway up the steps. I hold in my giggle so as not to make too much noise and wake him. I grab the remote to turn off the lights. Already clad with my matching pajama set from earlier on, I slowly slide into bed as well, my every movement trying to minimize the chances of waking Graham before I move closer and cuddle up behind him, snaking my arms around his waist. One kiss on his shoulder, three on the back of his head. One on the soft curve of his jawline. I whisper as quietly as I possibly can.

"I have always loved you. I promise you I always will." I let my eyes slip slowly shut as I begin to relinquish my hold on staying awake. He moves by just a fraction in my arms before I hear him mutter.

"I love you too, you sweet darling. Forever and ever and ever." A gentle groan escapes him after he lets out a relaxed yawn. It isn't long before we're both enveloped by the comforting embrace of sleep and are taken away to our dreams for the night. I dream about Graham. I always do. I probably always will.

_ -fin- _


	7. Death Of Someone Close (Dalex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Minor character death, funerals and grieving.
> 
> I don't like to kill off real life characters in my fictional work so I've tried to keep this as respectful as possible. I don't know all that much about Damon's extended family but I didn't want to go prying into that information even if it is publicly available somewhere. You know me. I'm all about accuracy but for the sake of not diving in too deep to personal things, I'm gonna just do my take on this kind of event from the perspective of someone who's lost grandparents and helped others with that grieving process too.
> 
> This chapter is set in 1996. Enjoy, folks.

**Dalex**

**POV Alex**

Funerals are for the living. It’s by no means an original notion but I’d say I have to agree. Funerals are made so that the living can have a moment of closure, to have a brief chance at saying goodbye. I’ve been to plenty of funerals during my life at various stages. I remember my mother dressing me all in black from head to toe and telling me not to play with my cousins when we got to the funeral home because it wasn’t polite to play at funerals. The clothes were itchy. Everyone looked like they were on the verge of breaking down and sobbing. When I was a child, even though I didn’t have the words for it, I knew something was wrong and everyone was there for the same reason.

Right now, however, it doesn’t take much effort to get me to wear black. I wander about this quaint little home, picking up tiny sandwiches off of platters and sharing meaningless chit-chat with passersby. Wakes aren’t much better than funerals. I might not have come if it wasn’t for the fact that I was dating one of the bereaved. Damon’s grandmother passed away and as a dutiful boyfriend, it’s the least I can do to be there.

I’m by no means in my element as I transport myself from room to room in search of him but I do my best to try and remain calm and unphased even in this horribly depressing setting. I hear someone sobbing in the lounge room and others tutting and shushing them. Walking slowly upstairs, I see the door to Damon’s bedroom cracked open just a fraction. Bingo. I ease the door open more to allow myself room to quietly sneak in and I spot my boyfriend sitting on the side of his bed and staring out the window. His fingers run through his hair as he rests his elbows on his knees. Grief wears a pensive face on Damon.

It’s moments like these that I have no clue how to comfort him other than to walk over with little more than the whine of some squeaky floorboards to alert him of my presence. He’d know I’m here by now so I sit down just behind him on the bed.

“Needed to get away from it for a little?”

He simply nods.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

There’s a slight pause but within a moment, he nods again. I lay myself down against the stacked pillows and gently tug on the sleeve of his black jacket. I know he mustn't have worn it in quite a while. It looks just a touch too small on him, cinching oddly at his upper arms as he lays back too. He reclines against my body and sits back between my legs. My arms lay one on top of the other over his collarbone and shoulders. My chin feels comfortable resting on top of his head.

“I know she meant a lot to you, babe.”

“Mhm…” He sounds terribly congested. He’s definitely been crying. “I know you’re not supposed to have favourites but she was my favourite one.”

“It feels strange, doesn’t it?”

“It feels like the rug’s been snatched from under my feet and I was winded falling on my back. We had so many memories together and we could talk about the past and about the future. Now all those memories are mine to keep alive but I can’t even share them w-with her anymore.”

“I think I understand what you’re getting at. It hurts to feel like the proof that she was around dies with you.”

“Y-Yeah… Exactly like that. I’m the end of the line, really,” He turns slightly and cranes his head back to look up at me, muttering wearily “How are you so good at understanding this? It’s like you just  _ know _ . Like you take an x-ray of my heart and you can see why i-it’s breaking.”

His baby blue eyes are glassy with tears that look like they’re just about a blink away from running down his face. His already dark lashes are damp with old tears. I kiss the space between his temple and his cheek where smile lines would normally appear. This solemn day, they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Damon, do you believe in heaven?”

“I’m not sure. I just think… I think that one day, our souls will all find each other again. I don’t know where or when or w-why but that’s just what I hope will happen,” he tucks in his bottom lip when it starts to quiver and coughs probably to get rid of the lump in his throat “I just wasn’t ready for her to go. A-And I feel so stupid wallowing in all this when my Mum’s lost her mother. She was my Nan but m-” he shakes his head and rolls over to bury his face into my chest, clinging to the front of my black waistcoat. He’s almost silent when he cries but I can feel the way his body trembles every so often with a new sob.

In a lot of ways, I feel helpless right now. What can I really do to make this all go away for him? The best thing I can do is the exact opposite almost. I need to let him sit with this and process it. He needs the time to grieve. 

“Dames, however long you need to heal, take that time. I will never rush you to get over something.” He rolls slightly onto his side as he rubs his face, trying to compose himself.

“I know.” my boyfriend’s cheeks are blotchy and tear-stained. What I wouldn’t give to make all that hurt disappear.

Eventually Damon sits up and runs his fingers through his hair, fucking it up a little cause he knows I’m going to pat it back down and fix it for him. I do so gently as he gazes absentmindedly out the window at the dreary afternoon sky. There’s something hollow in his eyes that hurts to look at but I know he’ll be better eventually. His head sways slightly every time I stroke his hair.

“Could I get you something? A cup of tea? A little sandwich? The avocado and ham ones are really good, baby. I’ve had four already.” His brows furrow upwards as he thinks over that for a little while before giving an affirmative nod like that of an old soldier. I do feel sometimes that he’s an old head on young shoulders. There’s something about his soul that’s been around for far longer than his physical form has.

With that, I lean over to plant a comforting kiss on his cheek, pressing another against his lips when I notice the turn of his face toward mine. One more for luck. We appreciate having little rituals like that. Giving one extra kiss when we think we’re done. I make my way back downstairs to brew a pot of tea and secure a couple of those little sandwiches for my poor love. I’m itching for a smoke as I wait for the kettle to boil. People pass by me, asking who I’m here with and telling me they have daughters my age and asking what I do for a living. I give the stock standard responses.

“I’m a friend of the deceased’s grandson.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely but I’m not dating at the moment”

“I’m a musician.”

“No, I don’t do weddings.”

It’s a massive relief when I tune back in mentally to hear the shrill scream of the kettle boiling. Soon enough, I’ve made it up the stairs with a cup of tea and a saucer in one hand, the small plate of two sandwiches in the other. I feel slightly more at ease when, coming from inside his old room, I hear Damon gently strumming his guitar. The tone of the piece he’s playing is warm and hopeful. I watch from the doorway as he plays the music that his heart conjures up. The tune comes to an end and he mutters softly.

“Do you like it?” We can always tell when the other is nearby.

“I love it, babe.” I whisper.

He glances back over his shoulder at me and I feel a spark of joy in my heart as he musters up a small but hardy smile.

The road ahead is rocky. There’s twists and turns and fog, but his smile is the light that cuts through it all and makes my path in life clear. If I can bring him even an iota of joy, even the tiniest slice of a reason to smile, then I’m getting things right for once in my life.

“Good… That’s good.”

_ -fin- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that chapter was a good one. I wasn't too confident in it so feedback is always welcome.


	8. Sleeping In (Gralexamon) NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers but they go to pound town so NSFW. Set in 1993.

**Gralexamon**

**POV Damon**

The morning rays of sunlight stream in through the glass panes. I roll over onto my side to face away from the warmth rays as they crawl across our wide bed. I nestle up to the nearest bare body and softly groan as I press my forehead against his shoulder. I can tell it’s Alex by the scent of his cologne still lingering ever present on his skin. Arms snake around my waist and Graham’s chest presses lightly against my upper back. This is harmony. This is peace.

I know all of us must be awake judging by the subtle, unintentional movements my lovers make. The bedding is soft and cushy. I feel as though I’m encased in a crisp, white cloud. There’s a sweet scent in the air, probably last night’s candle, that provides a comfortable atmosphere, incensing the room with vanilla fragrance.

Within a matter of moments, I’m nodding off again and I feel the both of them cuddle up closer to me on either side. I have peculiar dreams about chasing the moon through the night sky and news presenters talking about a star disappearing. I have a few more fragments of dreams that splice in with the others but eventually, I wake up once more.

Graham is holding me close as I wake and give a small wriggle to test if he’s awake too. His hand moves to rest on my hip as he gives a kiss to my nape. So sweet. So gentle. Alex, however, is now facing away from me so I run my palm up and down his side as I whisper.

“Alex, baby. Are you up?” I hear a mumbled confirmation and nestle my face into the junction of his neck and his shoulder. A few moments pass before a benign impulse hits me rather strongly and I succumb to it without very much protest at all. My hand rests against Alex’s mid back as I kiss his shoulder, kiss the base of his neck, glide the tip of my tongue up his neck and land a kiss on his earlobe, giving it a tender bite before I whisper in his ear.

“I want to feel your skin on mine.” This kind of shit always gets him going. I finally get to see his reaction as he rolls over looking sleepy but pleasantly surprised by my request. His gaze breaks away from mine as he looks past me at Graham. Alex’s lips turn up at one end in the form of a smirk before he glances back down at me and gives a quiet chuckle. The calluses on his fingertips make his touch subtly rough as he caresses my cheek. One of these fingertips rests under my chin as he tilts my head up, locking eyes with me until he leans in close enough and our lips meet. Alex tastes like cigarettes and coconut chapstick. The flavour isn’t complex but god, it’s addictive when he kisses me a little deeper every time.

The true pleasure starts to hit when Graham begins to kiss up and down the side of my neck, hunting for where he last left a hickey. There’s something about the sound of these different kinds of kisses and the subtle sounds the both of them make that I find simply intoxicating. It’s pure, distilled passion. I can barely cope with how splendid it feels when Graham sucks softly on my earlobe, nibbling and teasing it till it makes my body quiver with sensitivity. He’s gonna make me needy.

I’m blown away when Alex lightly wraps his hand around my throat. He hasn’t put any pressure on it but I know he could. He’s stronger than he looks. All of these sensations are going straight to my crotch. One of them _must_ be about to touch me, right? I need to be touched. Held. Kissed. Caressed. Fucked. I know it. They know it. It gets to be too much so I have no choice but to grind against Alex’s thigh. The bastard smirks against my lips. Soon enough, I feel Graham gripping onto my hips as he ruts against my arse. He’s such a gentle person in his day to day, but once you get him hot under the collar, he’s insatiable and needy. I know he’s going to leave fingerprint bruises on my body.

I just know I must be flushing rosy red right now. My cheeks are burning up as I gasp softly between kisses, caught between two bodies as I moan with need. The morning sunlight is warm against our already heated skin as the general tone of this starts to get more desperate. I can hardly think straight as Alex drowns me in deep, open kisses.

  
“F-Fuck, please I wanna make you two feel good,” I whimper. I barely have to wait a moment before I feel the both of them shift to new spaces on the bed, Graham guiding me to get onto my hands and knees while Alex lays himself back against our pillows right in front of me. From behind me, I hear the crinkling of foil quickly followed by the pop of a bottle’s cap. Knowing what’s coming, I move my knees further apart on the bed and crane my head back as I feel Graham leaning over me, kissing the back of my neck as he starts to work two fingers into me.

I wince at the initial shot of pain but he knows my body and massages me slowly, brushing all the right places just to tease me as I gaze just ahead at Alex who’s taking in this view. He’s always been a bit of a voyeur like that. Just as happy to participate as he is to watch. I don’t mind it at all. I love the attention. I make long, intense eye contact with him. He breaks it after a while to look up at Graham and gives a nod. I part my lips when he sits up to kiss me, his mouth absorbing my strained moan when Graham finally pushes himself into my body. They must have planned that. My face is hot and probably ruddy with warmth as he holds firmly onto my hips and starts to thrust. He does _not_ hold back. He knows I can take it. I feel Alex’s hand slip to the back of my neck as he guides me to lower my head. I already know what he’s craving. I hardly even have to look to know that his length is stiff and right in front of me. I grab a hold of his base and take the tip into my mouth, running my tongue all over it in circles and giving the tiniest licks.

“Oh _lord_ ,” he groans. Alex tends to curse under his breath incessantly and I love how vocal he is when faced with pleasure. It spurs me on to bob my head more deeply, taking more of his cock into my mouth. I give him a dark gaze when I pause to kiss his tip before getting back into the rhythm. It’s getting hard to focus however with Graham speeding up his rhythm. I can’t stop myself from moaning with Alex in my mouth. I’m sure he loves it when I let out a strained moan once Graham prods at my prostate. He keeps one arm wrapped around me as he pants against the back of my neck. That hand starts to wander down though as he begins to teasingly stroke my cock.

He wants to make me come, but not just yet. I have to earn it.

I make it my mission to get Alex off and make Graham just a little jealous, bobbing with deep strokes and letting his tip hit the back of my throat as I struggle to keep my gag reflex from giving me trouble. My eyes are watering as I look up at him and let him just fuck my mouth, his long fingers gripping at a hank of my hair while his hips buck with release. I swallow around him to save any clean-up. When I pull off, it’s all I can do not to just gasp for air. He’s so fucking good.

I can’t dwell on it for long though because Graham’s grip on my member tightens and he fucks into me with the desperation of someone who’s facing the firing squad in ten minutes.

“I need you…” he moans into the back of my neck.

“I know,” I whimper tenderly as I teter on the edge of climax “I need you more.” That must have been the phrase that got him because in seconds, I feel my lover give firm, steady pounds. Something about the heavy thrusts and this defined rhythm tips me over the precipice as well and my elbows buckle under me as I let him fuck me senseless with ravenous passion. The high I’m experiencing right now is completely unrivalled by any drug and I let out a shaky sigh when Graham pulls out and lays down beside Alex who’s already lit up a cigarette. 

Feeling blissfully satisfied and weak in my body, I crawl over to lay between the two, my arm resting across my chest as they cuddle up on either side of me, each giving a soft and grateful kiss.

“You two planned that, didn’t you?” I murmur intimately. Alex whispers with a velvety huskiness to his voice while Graham nuzzles my shoulder.

“That’s for us to know and you to find out.”

- _fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first proper bit of in-depth (twss) smut I've ever written so I'm hoping it's good and not terrible. Thank you for reading! xo


	9. Hugging (Davham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is late frends. I've been caught up with work a lot but I'm taking today to catch up and get back on track. wish me luck xo. This chapter is set in 1991 so enjoy some young Davham domesticity xo

**Davham**

**POV Graham**

__

No good. No good at all. It was terrible from the start and I know it’s going to be terrible right until I get home tonight. I had to fill an extra shift at the Tesco’s for one of my bastard co-workers who decided tonight would be a good night to come down with a vengeful case of food poisoning. Tim has a new excuse every week for why he simply cannot make his shift. Fuck Tim. Fuck Tesco’s.

Not only this but my car is in the repair shop having the radiator replaced so I’ve got no wheels of my own and am confined to public transport. This is a true nightmare. I hate being crowded in with so many other people. I’m already a bit uptight all the time and this only adds onto the amount of anxiety I already experience being out in public. I hate this with a passion. There’s a woman opposite to me whose infant is wailing like a banshee. I understand this baby’s anguish. The elderly man behind me keeps bumping the back of my seat by crossing and uncrossing his legs. He probably doesn’t realise that he’s nudging me but god, I could scream right now. I gaze out the window to try and distract myself, counting the stops on the way.

The only thing that makes this bus ride back home even worth being awake for is the fact that I know my boyfriend is going to be at our apartment and that the kitchen will smell of his pumpkin soup recipe. There’ll be soft folk music playing and he’ll have that adorable, dumb apron on that he does all his cooking in. The one thing I’m looking forward to most is knowing that the moment I walk through that door, I’ll be able to fling myself at him and hug him as tight as I possibly can. Sometimes Dave and I will get to the end of a day and simply hold each other to decompress from all the stresses brought on by the day. There’s something about the way he rests his chin on my shoulder and kisses my jaw that I find so comforting.

I try to keep these wholesome fantasies clear in my mind but I can’t help being distracted by the man who’s sitting beside me on the bus and keeps falling asleep on my shoulder, intermittently dribbling on my jacket. Just five more stops. Just five more stops till I can walk the rest of the way home. Now four. Now three. Now two. Now one. Touch down.

I can finally step off the bus and back into the real world. I thank the driver with a shy smile before I speed walk my way up the street to the apartment building where Dave and I have been living for the last couple of months. We haven’t been there long enough to have solved all our storage issues so brown cardboard boxes of miscellaneous possessions still litter our living space. I don’t mind clutter too much as long as it doesn’t impede my walking around the apartment. As I head in and stop in the nearest elevator up, I can almost smell dinner. I bounce slightly on the tips of my toes as I wait to be brought up to my floor. I fiddle with my keys in my pocket and sigh with relief as the doors open up. My pace down the hallway is quick and I lodge my keys in the lock the second I reach the door behind which my home resides. With a quick, metallic jangle and the gentle thud of the door shutting, I’m at last crossing the threshold of my safe haven.

“Daaave. You wouldn’t believe the fucking day I’ve had. It all went downhill after brunch with Streety.” I hang up my jacket on the row of hooks in our entryway and the keys on the smaller secondary rack. I’m less careful with my bag, dumping it rather haphazardly on the floor beside where Dave’s satchel is hung up on the wall. My shoes slip off with ease and I amble into the kitchen where I find Dave stirring a large pot of soup. When he clocks me, his face glows with a bright and cheerful smile. I wish I was as optimistic as him. In my early twenties, I must not be too far gone from my years of teenage angst because sometimes he’s so cheerful that it almost annoys me but mostly makes me want to kiss him. I hold my arms out towards him, making a grabby motion with my hands. He immediately understands the gesture and sets aside his wooden spoon to turn and wrap his arms around me at a moment’s notice. I've been waiting for this since the moment I left the house this morning.

“Tell me all about it, hun. What was wrong with today? I’m all ears. Let it aaaaall out.” I don’t deserve him. Genuinely. I bury my face into his shoulder, my arms encircling his neck loosely as I mumble my complaints.

“Hun, as soon as I finished up my lunch and chat with Stephen, I missed the bus on route to my art class. I got in half an hour late and everyone was looking when I came in. I just wanted to blend into the walls. Then after the class when we were having tea, I got hit on by one of the bleedin’ live models. She was saying all sorts of chat about ‘Love to see you up there and draw you.’ and all that,” I shake my head with frustration and pull back a little to look into his eyes “And, Dave, it gets worse. When I got out of the class, I got a call from the mechanic saying they need to work on my fuses? The bill is just gonna climb and climb the more they find wrong with it. Oh lord, and then this one asshole shouted at me from across the street when I was at the bus stop. He called me a cunt? This man doesn't even know me and he's just hurling abuse from across the street. Then there was a baby on the bus and that drooling guy again. To make matters worse, that crick in my neck has come back. Dave, it’s unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable.”

He nods gently and takes a deep breath, giving a slow, calming sigh. His tone is warm as he strokes my cheek.

“It sounds like you’ve had quite a day, Grem. The good news is that you’ve made it to the end of it. Tomorrow is brand new,” He gives a sagely smile before he holds my waist and gives me the most tender, caring kiss he can muster before pulling me into one of his patent-pending squeezy comfort hugs. This is where I feel most like myself. Dave’s no bodybuilder but his hugs are firm. Secure. They make you feel safe and cared for. “You’ve certainly earned yourself a bowl of soup with extra dipping croutons. You go take a load off. Put on whatever movie you want to watch tonight and I’ll bring out our dinner.” I dip my head and he kisses my forehead before patting my side and heading off to the kitchen.

I’m so fucking lucky that Dave exists. I stroll to the lounge room feeling renewed and cleansed of the day as I pick out Back To The Future III from our stack of tapes and slide it into the VHS player, taking the remote with me before I flop down on the couch. I tuck my legs up under myself, sitting criss-cross and settling into the cushions. All the bullshit of today feels far off in my mind, a distant memory that I can leave behind in favour of a new day.

“Soup’s up.” He chuckles as he brings in our dinner and an extra bowl of croutons, laying them down carefully on the nearby coffee table and briefly putting on a thick accent. “Get that in yer gob.” He’s a total goober.

I take the bowl into my lap and lean against him peacefully as I sip my soup and he gets comfy with his eyes locked on the TV screen. There’s something so tranquil about coming home to know that everything you need to get by is in one place. Shelter. Loved ones. A good meal. Sometimes, having everything I could ever want in life this early on makes me scared of losing it. No one knows what the future holds but I know that as long as I’ve got Dave, I’ll be okay.

I want to cling to this forever and ever. I want to stay in this moment forever.

__

_ -fin- _


	10. Watching The Other Sleep (Dalex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again frends. I'm slowly but surely catching up. This chapter is set in 1992. Btw thanks so much for nearly 300 hits and so many kind, encouraging comments.

**Dalex**

**POV Alex**

The tour bus rumbles steadily down the roads as we’re driven from location to location, heading north to Scotland. We’ve been on tour for just a few days now but soon enough, we’ll be leaving the country and playing international shows. I try to keep a cool facade but inside, I’m very much excited to be seeing new places and travelling with the guys once again. Each tour seems to get bigger and better than the last.

I snicker softly as I sneak away from the booze sesh that Graham and Dave are having. I’ve had a few drinks so I must say I’m rather jolly as well. Damon adjourned for bed about an hour earlier than the rest of us, quite smartly. As I start to climb up into my bunk, I hear him give a sharp whisper.

“Alex… Oi,  _ Alex _ .” I glance back over my shoulder to see Damon under his covers as he stares back at me.

“What?” I whisper.

“C’mere.”   
  


“What, in your bunk?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I don’t know. Just odd, don’t you think?”   
  
“No, I don’t. You should know that about me by now. I follow a strict no-thinking policy.” He giggles to himself and shakes his head before he nods towards his bunk. “Get yer skinny ass up here.”

I can’t really argue with that, can I? I roll my eyes with a resigned sigh and climb up into his bunk, sitting at the opposite end to him and leaning against the wall of the bunk to get slightly more comfy. I feel like I’m in a coffin.

“So why’d you call me up here?” My head is still slightly foggy from my drinks. He seems hazy too although he didn’t drink anywhere near as much. “Are you stoned?”

“Correct, dear friend.” Ouch. Friend hurts. I don’t like friend.

“Where on earth did you get weed?”

“Got it from Graham.”

“And where did  _ he _ get it from?” 

“Some guy in Stoke Newington,” Damon giggles like a pixie who raided a potion cupboard and drank the whole lot. I hate that it makes me fall for him over and over again. “C’mon Alex. You should get high with me some time. Spend less time trying to fuck someone and spend more time relaxing with your band mates.”

“I thought that’s just something you and Graham do. Don’t you and him have a thing going on?” I know Damon’s slept with other men before but I’ve never known if it was just for kicks or something that he’s actually serious about. I have a bit of a vested interest in this. He seems to have to think about his answer quite a lot.

“Graham and I are kinda just casual if you know what I’m getting at. He’s cute and all but I don’t really see anything long term for him and I. Dating’s kinda hard when you’re off around the world a lot. The selection pool is kinda limited if I want anything that lasts longer than four days. Hence uh… Graham.” he glances down at the polaroid camera he’s retrieved from his bag. “Please don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want him to take it the wrong way like he’s my last resort or something. I know he needs a bit of companionship too.”

“I won’t tell. I have a similar problem I guess. Mine comes more from not knowing though if my ‘beau’ likes me or not. Guess I just kinda sleep around so I don’t focus on the one person I’m  _ not  _ sleeping with.”

“Someone back home?”

“Well, kinda. I see them a lot.” God, I’ve probably said too much.

I feel embarrassed, almost flustered, as I try to move the conversation away from the previous topic. Damon pats the spot beside him. I think he can tell I’m a little thrown off but I’m not sure having me sit beside him is gonna help. Nevertheless, I crawl over and place myself about an inch to the side from Damon. The width of this bunk space doesn’t allow for much more room.

“I remember that old thing. You used to take photos all the time on the first tour.” I tilt my head to get a better look at the camera before looking up when he raises it and turns it to face us.

“Say cheese.”

Feeling slightly bold and relaxed from my tipsy state, I smile at first then plant a kiss on his cheek as the camera gives a crisp SNAP. I’ve already hinted too much so what more is a kiss on the cheek gonna do? Damon pauses.

“Let’s do another,” He rests the side of his head against the side of mine as he holds up the camera. Just as he’s about to lay his finger on the button, I hear him whisper in my ear, “I want you to kiss me to sleep.”

The shutter snaps and my dumbstruck reaction is immortalized on paper. I look to him wordlessly and feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Don’t be so shocked. I know you wanted to hear that,” He’s so nonchalant about it. How is he so confident? I mean, he’s right but holy shit, he’s smooth. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

He shuffles down to lay back. I follow suit. He holds the side of my neck after setting the camera aside. I feel like I might cease to exist if we kiss but here goes nothing. I part my lips and tilt my head just the right way so we fit together just right. Puzzle pieces. His mouth is soft and our movements are slow, savouring every second. I can tell he’s trying not to overwhelm me. I’ve seen how he can get with other guys so I know he’s going easy on me. 

We continue to share long, slow kisses. My stomach does somersaults whenever I feel his teeth lightly graze my bottom lip. It feels like getting high. He tastes like chocolate and something more aromatic. He must have had edibles. I could listen to the sounds of each kiss for an eternity. It feels as though we’re kissing for an hour before we eventually pull away. Looking down at him, his lips are rosy, his eyes are tired and he has a demure, satisfied smile.

“I like you a lot, Alex. I think you should know that,” he licks his lips thoughtfully and runs his middle fingertip along my jawline “I wouldn’t worry about that beau of yours. Something tells me they feel the same way.” He gives a small smile before letting his eyes droop shut and nestling up close to me. I could die right here. I pull the blankets up over the both of us and lay my head down on the pillow as I gaze down at this serene sight. Something about this hits my heart more deeply. He feels safe. He trusts me.

It usually takes me a fair while to get to sleep and tonight isn’t different especially now that I have so many thoughts buzzing around my mind. To dispel them, I focus on Damon. It feels almost a little creepy to be watching him in this state but there’s something so divinely beautiful about observing him as he slips into his dreams. His arms are tucked up to his chest as his hand slightly twitches. Every so often, he gives an unintelligible mumble and it makes my heart launch into backflips. I gaze at the lips that just a little while ago, were pressed against my own.

He likes me. He really likes me. At least that’s what he seemed to be saying before he nodded off. I ought to be careful not to overthink or I’ll get myself in a state.

Finally, my eyelids start to feel heavy and I take one last moment to gaze at Damon sleeping before I too shut my eyes. His lashes are dark and long. His nose ends with an upturned point. He’s positively elven. I shuffle in closer and let my forehead rest against his. He shifts ever so slightly and I feel his leg move to lay his thigh across my own. I’m so close to him that it feels unreal, like a dream come true, and I cannot believe that this is really happening. This morning, I was fucking miserable to see him and Graham snogging in the kitchenette but now, at the end of the day, Damon’s laying in my arms. He’s letting me into his space. In this moment, I am an astronaut traversing the surface of a new planet. One giant leap for me.

I don’t know when I fall asleep but when the morning comes, Damon’s already awake and he’s still here. He doesn’t regret this. He wants to be near me.

  
What more could I ask for?   
  
_ -fin- _


	11. Drawing Each Other (Gramon) NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in 1993 during the Modern Life Is Rubbish era. Hold onto your hats folks cause this chapter starts out very NSFW. You've been warned ahaha.

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

“F-Faster! Fucking faster!”

“Like that? You l-like it? Feels good when I fuck you?” He still sounds like his sweet demure self but there’s an edge to his voice. It’s devious. Salacious.

  
  
“Mmm, I do. You do it so good.”

Wooden slats creak and rusty box springs whine with repetition. The room smells of oil paints and breakfast wafting up from downstairs. I rake my fingers through my sweaty fringe, pushing my hair back before I lean down to lock lips with Graham. Our tongues clash as we moan into each other’s mouths. The way he grips at my thighs is delicious. He digs his nails in like letting go would kill him. I love knowing my skin will be littered with red crescent moons when we’re done. 

I am riding the  _ fuck _ out of him. He could very well make me come untouched.

Whenever I kiss him, I change up the rhythm of my body, gyrating my hips before returning to an exaggerated bounce once I’m sitting up again and my mouth is unoccupied. I know he likes it when I let my tongue hang out just-so like this. My palms are splayed against his chest as I keep up a steady bounce, giving whimpering moans to encourage him to fuck me as hard as he can. My inner thighs are aching but it’s a small price to pay to know that I’m gonna be feeling this for a week, remembering the pleasure with every movement I make.

“M’so close, Gray. Please let me come. I’m nearly there.”

Something hits a limit for Graham and he grabs a hold of my waist, flipping me over onto my back and wedging himself between my thighs. Without hesitation, he’s pushing into me and hitting my pleasure spot dead on. I can’t help but quake all over as he begins to fuck me into the mattress, my legs wrapped around his middle. I bear my neck to him whenever I feel the need to bury my head into the pillow. Graham takes the hint and begins to leave small hickies all over my neck. I can’t help but want to mark him too so I scratch all the way down his back from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. The thrusting is unrelenting as my toes start to curl up and I can hardly take another second.

That’s when my climax hits me like a freight train, my body convulsing and swaying to the movements of Graham’s hips. He pants in my ear like he just ran a marathon. His thrusting becomes staggered, punctuated by about four or five final thrusts. I know he just hit his peak too when he buries his cock deep in me. His body relaxes after a short while, my legs draped lazily around him as I try to catch my breath. 

“Graham, that was the best I’ve ever had,” I brush his fringe away from his face and his strands are damp with perspiration. I giggle almost deliriously as I notice the way my hands tremor “Look at them go. I’m all shaky. Look what you do to me.”

He takes my wrist and kisses my palm as he gazes down at me.

“You’re spectacular in every possible way,” He’s carefree and unabashed right now but I know his sweet, sheepishness will slowly creep back in. I think I love that about him. “I could draw you right now, just the way you are. All fucked out and exhausted. Framed by white sheets. You’d make a gorgeous artwork.” He rests his forehead against my chest and giggles with embarrassment, shaking his head at himself. I know what he’s going to ask and my answer is already yes.

“Damon, could I draw you please? Just like this? You’ve never modelled for me before and you’re… Oh god, this sounds so pretentious. You’re my muse, Day. You really are.”

“You don’t even need to ask, Grem. Just pay the toll of one kiss.” He complies with a brief but tender kiss, planting more up the side of my neck as he pulls out. I give the faintest moan. Graham upholds one of our little rituals by peppering my face, neck and shoulders with kisses just like he always does. He has no idea how special it makes me feel.

“Don’t move…” he gently whispers before climbing out of our bed and heading to his workspace, a folding wall-mounted desk that’s cluttered with all his art supplies. I try not to let a smile crack as I watch his arse. Normally I’d slap it when he walks away but I don’t want to ruin the moment, plus I’m distracted by the red streaks that trail down his back. I did that. That was me.

Graham pulls up a stool beside the bed and holds his sketchbook against his leg to keep it nice and balanced. He twiddles his charcoal pencil between his pointer and middle finger.

“You know that painting I showed you the other day? Jacob’s Dream by Ary De Vois?” I vaguely remember the one. A young man reclines beside a dog with his arms resting around his head. His body is slightly stretched out, showing every soft curve and subtle angle. I nod with recognition. “Yeah, I know the one.”

“Like that, please baby.” I fucking love hearing him call me that as I loosely recreate the position. I know he wouldn’t want me to get it exactly right. It’s not about copying but more so evoking the image. I bring a section of the sheet closer and let it cover my privates before winking to the artist before me. One arm rests under my head and the other reaches back further to hold onto the headboard of our bed. I could lay in this elegant repose forever.

“You’re friggin’ beautiful. You know that right?”

I lovingly shush him and he giggles back before going to a place of focus, sketching away with an unspoken kind of determination. He wants to capture my essence on the page. He’s always talking about trying to tap into a person’s inner beauty. I’m not sure what he’d find in me. It’s not a cold morning by any means but it’s also not too warm so I can see a dusting of goosebumps along his arms as he draws the framework of me.

“Graham, can I ask you something?”

“Your phrasing of that makes me nervous but go ahead.”

I giggle softly. What a sweet thing he is.

“Well, I was thinking about it a little by myself but I wanted to run the idea past you some time. Erm…” I gaze up at the ceiling as I speak softly to coach this idea “I wanted to ask you if you wanna move out of here and move in somewhere else with me? I know it’s a lot but I feel like it’d be good to have our own space. I love the guys but there’d be more room for all our instruments and all your general kit. You don’t have to decide right away. There’s no rush to move out.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too. It’s been gettin’ kinda cramped in here with Dave and Alex as well. Love ‘em like brothers but I’ve grown up and I don’t live with family anymore.” He softly chuckles and pushes his hair to the side.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Plus Alex keeps complaining to me about hearing us fuck and I’ve kind of had it with all that.”

“Well, personally, I think he should quit listenin’ in. That or we tell him he has to join in just once to make it stop.” I can’t help giggling at that ridiculous proposition. I wanna reach out and hold his hand but I have to restrain myself from ruining the pose.

“So you’re keen on us getting our own place?” I gaze over at him as he chews his lip with focus on the various lines he’s putting down. “Ground control to Major Coxon? Do you read me?”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. Got caught up. Yeah, I like it a lot. Could be a good step for us.”

“I’m glad you think so too.” After a while, I find myself in a meditative mental space and I get to really enjoy being studied like this. To know that Graham is seeing every little thing about me and taking it down on paper makes me feel noteworthy in some way. He sees a beauty in me that even I’ve probably never seen. At one point, I zone out completely until I hear his voice.

  
“It’s done. Wanna see it?” I nod and sit up, stretching out my arms before I walk over behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder as I set my eyes on the page, stunned by what I see. The piece is organic. Earthy. The details that matter have been taken care of and everything else is simple and relaxed. This is the first time art has made me feel something this strong. It's like falling in love.  


“Holy fuck… Graham, you made me art.”

“You’re already art. You don’t need my help with that.”

_ -fin- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u again to everyone who's been tuning in and catching up on the latest chapters. the support means so much. The next chapter is going to be a bit longer cause I wanna just let the writing flow instead of sticking roughly to the 1500 word limit


	12. Having a Lazy Day (Gralex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello frends. this chapter is set in 1998 so enjoy those vibes. also my first chapter featuring Jamie so wooot wooot. I mentioned in the notes on my last chapter but this one is a wee bit longer cause I wanted to just go with the flow of the prompt and see how far it takes me. enjoy xoxo

**Gralex**

**POV Alex**

  
  


“Graham.” I mumble, my mouth full of breakfast cereal.

“What?” he lays face down on the floor in the middle of our bedroom as I lean against the door frame, eating cornflakes directly out of the box. 

“Is the painting bugging you?”

“No, what makes you ask that?” He’s adorable when he’s being sarcastic.

“Here’s a novel idea. How about you take a break and stop flogging yourself over this, Grem? It’s not a commission. Your life’s not at stake as far as I know. Just have a chill day with me, babe.”

“I’m just tired of seeing it staring back at me, Alex,” He rolls over onto his back and I sigh softly as I wander over to sit on our bed, gazing down at him. “I just want it done and over with.”

“Put a sheet over it, babe. Turn it around to face the wall. Toss it out the window. I’m sure someone will be pleased to see it appear in front of them,” I set the box aside on our nearby dresser and crawl down off the bed to lay beside him, his arm under my neck. “C’mon. We could laze about in the tub for a while. Oh, and then maybe we could go to Jamie and Damon’s tonight. They’re hosting game night. I’m gonna bring you, Twister and a bottle of Shiraz. There’s no way you’re gettin’ out of it this time.” I chuckle. Graham, for the last three weeks, hasn’t come to game nights because of this godforsaken painting he’s been doing.

He takes a while to respond but eventually rolls over onto his side to kiss my cheek and mutter.   
  
“Okay, I’ll go tonight.” He offers a small smile before I roll onto my side as well, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Thank you, baby. I’ll go run the tub. I’ll put the jets on as well. Let’s pamper ourselves a little.” I stand over him and take his hands to help pull Graham to his feet, planting a few soft kisses against his cheek as encouragement. He musters up another smile and I make my way out of our room and up the hall to the bathroom.

Sure to turn the heat lamp on, I start the tub running and anoint it with essential oils and bath salts. Eucalyptus and tea tree oil scents begin to fill the room with a refreshing aroma. The bathroom will hopefully be a welcome change in scenery for Graham who has kept himself cooped up in our room, painting obsessively. He’s peculiar like that sometimes but Lord, do I love it about him. I hang up our bathrobes on the hooks behind the door and put some quiet folk music on to make the atmosphere even more lazy and relaxing.

The door creaks open behind me and I glance back over my shoulder to see Graham walking in as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to be here. He enters every room like that. Adorable motherfucker.

“Alex, it’s lovely in here. So cozy.”

“I know, babe. I figure you need a good break. Get some calm in your brain and some heat in your bones.” He shuts the door behind him as I take off my t-shirt, shorts and boxers, checking the temperature of the water before I hold the sides of the triangular tub and lower myself in.

“Hop on in. The water’s fine.” I slide over to open up some space for my boyfriend to get in. I look away as he gets undressed. We’ve been together about four years now and obviously, have seen each other naked many times. I just like to let him undress without me observing cause I know he gets a bit nervous sometimes depending on what his mood’s been like. Other times he  _ quite  _ likes it. Today I think he’d probably have the former reaction. 

Graham dips himself slowly into the tub along with me and sinks in up to his collarbones in the warm, soothing water. He lets his head loll back and rests his arms along the sides of the tub. A glint of gold around his neck calls to my attention that he’s still got on the 18ct chain that I bought him for his birthday two years ago. The chain is dainty but it suits him. The round, flat pendant has his initials engraved on it.

“Comfortable, baby?”

He pouts his lips to the side and tilts his head.

“Hmmmm, could be a little more comfy.”

I nod my understanding and reach for the panel of dials on one side of the tub, turning up the jets and grinning softly as the spa function comes to life. The water is thrumming with bubbles and a pleased smile appears on Graham’s face. He’s really quite pretty. Especially so when his hair’s wet and all floppy.

“Now that’s more like it.” he sighs, giggling when he looks at me and his glasses fog up from the warm water.

“Might want to dispose of those.” I like to playfully tease him but not too much. He’s been hard enough on himself lately with this bloody painting keeping him awake at night. I do try my best to encourage him and make him feel better but he just works himself up into a state sometimes.

He folds his glasses up neatly and places them aside before dipping himself under the water for a moment and resurfacing, his hair dripping as he pushes it back and looks to me with a loving smile. He moves over to me and sits across my lap. I lay my arm on his thigh and gaze up into my boyfriend’s chocolate brown eyes.

“Alex, I think I wanna be with you for a very, very long time.” He takes a deep breath and touches my cheek before letting out a long, content sigh. He has faraway eyes and a wistful type of smile. I want to see inside his mind.

“I’d like that too, baby.” I don’t think he realises how much it means to me to hear him say that. To be honest, I’ve been thinking of popping the question even though I have no idea when we’re going to be able to get officially married. It’s just something I really want to commit myself too. It sounds bizarre in my mind to only want one person but I think things have changed for me a lot recently. Knowing how happy Graham makes me brings so much clarity to my life.

We stay in the bath for quite a while just holding each other and eventually washing the others’ hair. He always gives the best scalp massages and I like to give him a good, old fashioned neck rub. Graham tends to store his stress in his shoulders and it makes him hunch up and get all tense there. By the end of it, he softly mumbles to me with relaxation.

“Darling, nothing feels better than the way you soothe me. You’re like curling up in a soft armchair with a hot cup of tea after a long, cold day.” I love the imagery his words evoke.

“I aim to please.” His nape receives a sweet, simple kiss.

The spa is turned off. The tub is emptied. Hair is ruffled dry by the expensive towels that Graham’s mother bought for us and we don our bathrobes. I know it’s corny but we got “his” and “his” embroidered on them for a laugh. If I think about how I was even four years ago, I don’t think I could even have begun to imagine what it’d be like to live so closely with someone I love. I couldn’t have been able to imagine a future in which I wasn’t with a new person every week. I think the love I have for Graham snuck up on me but it always made sense. In a lot of ways, he balances me out and helps me keep my footing. Even now as I watch him walk down the hallway just ahead of me in his fluffy, dark blue bathrobe, I’m struck by how bizarrely wonderful it is to have this kind of existence and especially with him. I have routines now and I know where I’m going to wake up in the morning. I know  _ who  _ I’m going to wake up with.

“Grem?” I walk a little faster to catch up with him.

“Yeah?” He glances back over his shoulder and I lovingly surprise him by taking a hold of his waist and pulling him close into a tender, romantic kiss. My palm supports his lumbar as I tip him back just so. He giggles into the kiss and gives another one of those wistful sighs. I kiss the tip of his nose and giggle as well before I pull away and wink.

“Oh nothing.”

My favourite part of my routine is making time for the two of us to be close and intimate whether that be through simple cuddling or something a little more risqué. Not to brag but I think our love life is pretty decent. Graham’s often too polite to initiate but he’s probably more of a horny bastard than I am. I don’t think there’s a room in this house where we haven’t fucked. I am off limits from telling any of our guests this. Something about how he’d“die of embarrassment if they knew that” and how he’d “leave me in a second if I exposed him like that”. Some tosh like that. Of course I oblige him though- I know he can be reserved like that.

This afternoon is spent lazing on the couch with my boyfriend laying on my chest while I comb my fingers through his hair. He must have been a house cat in a former life. I must be honest, there’s times that I hold him and I feel almost scared. Scared that I’ll slip back into my old ways and fuck all of this up. Scared that one day he’ll wake up and realise he doesn’t love me anymore. He’s my world and it all makes me so afraid of losing him one way or another. It spurs me on, however, to savour every second. Life is unpredictable and even though I may do everything in my power to be the best partner he could possibly have, there’s some external influences that come into our lives that we won’t be able to control. So I want to make the most of all of it. Every single second is a gift I am beyond fortunate to receive.

I hear a beeping from upstairs as Graham snores against the side of my neck. It must be my alarm to start getting ready to go over to Damon and Jamie’s flat. That’s another thing that’s changed. I set alarms now. I get places on time and I schedule my days. None of this would be possible without Graham. Although the one thing that would be easier without Graham right now, would be getting off the bloody couch to get ready.

“Gray. Gray, baby… I’m gonna need you to get up off of me, love. We’ve gotta get moving. You promised you’d go with me tonight.” He lets out a long, low groan and a final little grumble before he sits up on my lap, rubs his face and climbs off of me, using the couch along the way to support himself till he has his land legs again.

The next twenty minutes turn out to be a flurry of jumpers, jeans and sneakers being riffled through as we both try to assemble casual outfits, a mad rush to the nearest bottle shop to grab a semi-decent shiraz and a drive back home to grab our Twister game as well as the Scrabble box in case no one’s in the mood for Twister before heading off on our way for real this time.

We manage to arrive at the flat ten minutes early and through the front door, we can already hear music playing. Damon likes to drown himself in a million different musical influences. He’s dancing slightly when he opens the door for us after we ring the bell.

“Good lord, it’s the complete set! Graham, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Thanks for coming along, fellas. Jamie’s just in the kitchen mixing up the salsa.” Damon seems slightly manic at the moment. He’s been up and down quite a lot since the ass fell out of his relationship with Justine and they broke up. Jamie seems to be helping through though with his own experience.   
  
I follow him in and leave the boxes of board games on the coffee table in the lounge room, giving Jamie a quick hug and passing him the bottle of shiraz. I recognise the song playing. Damon’s mentioned it before. “Tang Uru” I think? By Ayub Ogada? I’ll have to check with him later but for now, we all share chit chat and yammer on about all our current creative projects. Artists, am I right? I wouldn’t have it any other way, to be honest. I love seeing Graham and Jamie going on and on about what they’re both working on. It brings the passion for art back into my boyfriend’s eyes and that can only be a good thing. In settings like these, I just like to stand by him and chat with those around us, always resting my palm on his back or holding his hand. It’s not because I’m protective or jealous. Far from it. We’re actually rather relaxed about some things. It’s more so because these little gestures feel so grounding and centre us both. We feel secure this way.

The evening is wonderful. To finally be spending time with our friends as a couple again rather than just me representing the team feels so much better. We all get situated on the lounge room floor with our glasses of wine and bowls loaded up with various snacks to graze on while we play scrabble, the words we lay down becoming more and more ridiculous the more glasses of wine we down. Damon and I got into a jokingly heated debate in regards to the validity of “zix” as a word. I just wanted the triple word score, to be honest. Twister is an absolute disaster in the best way possible as we all fumble and grope about to try and situate our various body parts on the correct dots. I can’t say that I help much being a rather gangly bundle of limbs as I am but fuck, I’ve got the reach I need to smite Damon and Jamie at this. Graham flicks the arrow and giggles like a mischievous motherfucking gremlin whenever he knows that one of us is going to eat shit if we attempt the next move. I love hearing him laugh. It makes my entire month when he so much as snickers in the same room as me.

By the end of the night, we’re wine drunk and giggling like idiots about whatever cartoon we’ve left playing on the TV. Some of them genuinely just feel like a bad acid trip which makes them ten times funnier. Damon snores while he naps against the nearest beanbag. Jamie seems to be focused on this particular episode of The Powerpuff Girls almost as though he’s studying it. I lay on the couch and Graham relaxes against me, singing along to the theme. It’s perfect. It’s all just perfect. The guys let us stay overnight, mutually agreeing that we’re all far too drunk for any of us to even think about getting behind the wheel of a car.

Graham and I stagger to the guest bedroom and change into our undies and t-shirts as makeshift pajamas. We’re both wobbly as we crawl into bed and immediately cuddle up together. I can hardly keep my eyes open for a second longer. Thoughts wander about my mind aimlessly but this one escapes.

“Graham, would you ever marry me?” He doesn’t even hesitate. This response is almost instant.

“Yes… Yes, in a heartbeat.” There’s little light in this room besides that of the waxing moon. The reflected moonlight colours his pale face blue. I’m going to remember this for as long as I live.

“Good. I’ll keep that in mind when I propose properly,” The two of us giggle together and I nuzzle his temple. “Just a heads up, it should be in the next couple months. Thought I should warn you.”

“Thank you. Appreciate it muchly.” We make love that night. It’s quiet for obvious reasons (wouldn’t be so rude as to wake our hosts) but it doesn’t want for passion and romance. The moonlight caresses our bodies. The night air from the ajar window is cool against our hot skin. We collapse in euphoria. We share a deep, peaceful slumber in the comfort of knowing our future is brighter than the stars that pinprick the midnight sky.

_ -fin- _


	13. In A Fairytale (a little nsfw at one point) Gramon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello frends. this chapter is set in 1989 at Graham's 20th birthday party. It gets a tiny bit NSFW at one point just so you know. TW for mentions of drinking. let me know if you figure out which fairytale this is based on ahaha

**Gramon**

**  
** **POV Graham**

  
  


I don’t think I should have gone tonight. It’s not often that someone says that about their own 20th birthday party but I really think I ought to have stayed with a friend out of town instead. It’s all too big and loud for me and I’m nowhere near drunk enough to be enjoying myself just yet. Maybe in a few shots, I’ll be having fun but for now, this party is a bit of a hellscape for me. The backyard of my family’s home is brimming with folks in their early twenties all getting positively stoned in every way possible. Drinks, drugs and everything in between flow like a river and I can’t believe it’s all to celebrate my birthday. What fucking tosh. 

I keep my head low as “Love Shack” by The B-52’s blares out over the speakers, probably harassing the whole neighbourhood. My parents are going to be the bane of this side of Colchester for buggering off out of town to let me have this party. I think they wanted me to have it more than I wanted to. I know they mean well of course. Everyone’s singing at the top of their lungs if not beyond that. I make my way to the liquor cabinet in the cellar of our home. Thankfully no one else has raided it yet so I have the bottle of peach schnapps my dad keeps aside for special occasions at my full disposal. I shouldn’t start on the spirits when I’ve already had some beer but what difference is it going to make? I’m probably going to end up puking in the granny flat tonight. The liqueur is sweet and with a twist of lemon, tangy. Why am I bothering to make note of the taste? It’s all going to be a hangover in the morning.

As I leave the cellar and make my way to the back door, I hear the crooning melancholic vocal stylings of Morrissey ringing through the house. Someone must have put “Suedehead” on. It’s a pretty ballad but dear God, I have heard enough of it.

“ _Why do you come here? And why-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy-hy? Why do you hang around?_ ”

Some pretentious twat must have gotten a hold of a Viva Hate cassette and usurped the tape deck. I had a mix going and everything. This prick. I take it upon myself to pace back to the lounge room where everything is plugged in and hooked up. The first person I see upon entering the room is long, dark-haired, lanky limbed Alex. We’ve known each other quite some time now and have some history but beside him, sitting nearest to the tape deck, is a stranger. A very pretty stranger of course but a stranger nonetheless. Must be a plus one of Alex’s. Of course he’d be trying to show me up like that. I grab Alex haphazardly by the wrist and pull him to the dining room, flustered by the presence of this stranger.

“Did he change the tape?”

“Did who change the tape?”

“The guy?”

  
  
“Graham, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Blonde guy in the lounge room.”

“Once again. Specificity.”

I sigh roughly with exasperation. Why does he have to act like a dumbass right now?

“The pretty one.”

“Ohhhh! The one with the too-big sweater and that squiffy hair?”

“Yeah, that’s him. You know him?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t know him from Adam. He just sat down next to me. I was thinking I might try and make a move but you’re the birthday boy so you get first p-”

“Alex, you’re as useful as an elephant in a minefield.” I shake my head and peek into the lounge room. This guy seems familiar. Could I have gone to school with him perhaps? I can’t seem to place him but he clocks me staring and gives a small but confident smirk. I’m once again flustered and have to make my way to the garden to get some fresh air and maybe a cigarette, as contradictory as those two needs are.

I fumble through my jacket pockets and soon enough find one last cigarette in a crumpled up carton. Popping the cig between my lips, I pat myself down all over in search of a lighter. I’m vaguely aware of the back door creaking open as I reach into my back pockets, glancing up when I hear the distinct metallic scratch of a lighter being struck. The tiny flame illuminates the face of the Tape Deck Bandit. We lock eyes for the time it takes for my cigarette to ignite. I take a long, deep drag of it so I have time to think up what I want to say to this lad.

“I must know you from somewhere. Your face looks familiar.”

“I was thinking the same thing. A couple friends dragged me along. I figure they must know you or they’re gatecrashing.” His voice is caramel and his accent sounds local. He tosses a cigarette up in the air and catches it between his lips before lighting the fucking thing. I’m gonna have a stroke. That was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen. He takes a quick couple of puffs before holding his cig to the side between his thumb and forefinger.

“I um… I’m Graham. I’m the host here. Pleased to meet you.” I hold out my palm and he gives me a firm shake accompanied by a wink.

“Pleasure’s all mine. Happy birthday, Graham. I suppose you went to school around here?”

“Yeah, Stanway. Yourself?”

“Same stomping grounds.”

“Cool.” Cool is a word that sounds extremely uncool coming out of my mouth. Fun dichotomy there. I’m not exactly a conversationalist extraordinaire but I’m terrified of coming off as boring or uninterested so I have to claw for something “You like music at all?”

“Very much. Music’s kinda my thing, funnily enough. I like to write songs and stuff. You got any instruments around? I could probably play something for you.” I don’t know how he’s just so casual about everything. He has an intense gaze but his baby blue eyes almost seem to twinkle in the party lights. Bastard keeps distracting me by being pretty.

“I’ve got an acoustic in my room upstairs you could have a bash at.” I’ve just realised what I’ve done. I’ve invited him to my room. I’m an idiot. This is a terrible idea. He’s going to think I’m hitting on him. Despite the undertones of my suggestion, the corners of his lips perk up into a calm smile.

“Show me the way, Graham.” I nod and gesture towards the house for him to follow me in up the hall and up the staircase. I hate that he’ll probably see all my baby photos on the way upstairs (Thank you, Mum) but I try not to focus on that. There’s going to be a guy in my room in a moment. I open up my closet and take out the acoustic, sitting myself criss-cross on my bed to start tuning it. By ear will be good enough.

“A Maton?” Tape Deck seems impressed by my choice in instruments. One point for me. “That’s a seriously nice piece of kit.”

“Give it a try.” I smile shyly once I’m done tuning and pass the guitar carefully to him. I saved up for a month of Sundays to be able to afford that guitar and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let it come to any harm. Tape Deck takes the guitar with a gentle kind of care. He knows this instrument is special to me without even having to ask why. He proceeds to strum away at it before lapsing into some indie pop tinged acoustic work. I hear him mumble lyrics along with the tunes he plays but I can’t quite peg down the song. Maybe it’s his own composition? Either way, the piece is beautiful and I can’t help but get lost just watching him play. His hands move with thoughtful purpose. It’s mesmerising to watch him play.

“Well, that’s as far as I’ve gotten on that tune but I’m still pretty pleased with it.” He seems less smug than usual and I appreciate seeing this slightly more humble side of him.

“I really like it a lot.” I have one last drag of my cigarette before I stub out the butt in the ashtray beside my bed, looking at him and glancing from his eyes to his lips and back. Tape Deck raises his eyebrow and lightly smirks as though to ask what I’m looking for. I shuffle closer on top of the covers and set the guitar aside, leaning it against the wall. The air feels unusually still up here in my room. He licks the corner of his lips before reaching over to lay his palm on my mid thigh. I whisper softly, inching my face closer to his.

“Do you cop a feel of everyone who says they like your music?” I falter slightly when he squeezes at my thigh.

“Just the ones that taste like you.” He closes the gap between us and kisses my lips smoothly. He must have some lip balm on. They’re unnaturally soft. Either that or I’m starting to get tipsy and my face is a little numb. The hand that was on my thigh now wanders to my waist. He pulls me closer and closer. I crawl onto his lap, straddling it and touching his chest. His aftershave smells clean and fresh. The music outside sounds like little more than a distant hum to me right now. His hands wander to my back and slide up under the hem of my polo neck t-shirt. I fucking love the way he’s touching me. I can hear INXS playing over the speakers.

“ _All you got is this moment. The twenty-first century's yesterday_ ”

When I lay my hands on the sides of his neck, he kisses me deeper and I slowly but surely start to rock my hips on his lap. Desperation begins to set in as our breathing picks up in pace. There’s heat in my face. My t-shirt is flung off and I pull his top off too, hearing something rattling against the floor when the garment lands.

“I-I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” I murmur shakily between kisses.

“Neither am I.” This young man’s words are like honey on my lips. I can't get enough of it as I grip onto his shoulders, letting my ankles cross behind him. Tape Deck wraps an arm around my lower back and tips me onto the bedding, crawling on top and holding my body close. He whispers in my ear "Happy birthday, Graham." With a swift, confident movement, he undoes my belt and tosses it out of the way.

I can hear the clock ringing out twelve times from downstairs and he seems to freeze in place.

"Twelve. Fuck. _Fuck_ , I've gotta get outta here. I've got a curfew." He mutters with what seems like hurried panic.

"Wait what? Why? It was going so well." I pant. For someone who didn't have plans of staying long, he sure did get me going. 

He climbs off of me and fumbles about searching for his jumper, slipping it back on fast and not even fixing his hair before he moves swiftly to the door.

"Please don't go. I really like you. I don't even know your name. How will I see you again?”

The beautiful young man stares at me with an earnest gaze, letting out a wistful sigh. He plucks up a small, hopeful smile.

“You'll find a way. It was lovely to meet you, Graham.” Before I can even think to go after him, he’s closed the door and left, dashing down the stairs I presume. I lay here on my bed, shirtless, shickered and shaken the hell up. I hear the front door of my house slam downstairs. I think I’m in love.

After a little while, I put my polo back on and add a cardigan to my outfit. I’m about to head back down to the lounge room until I accidentally kick something across the floor upon walking past my bed. After further inspection of the floor, I find a necklace strung with mismatched beads laying there. The last place I saw it was on the neck of Tape Deck right before I started grinding on his lap. Honestly, things start to get blurry there anyway. Nevertheless, I put the accessory on for safe keeping. It seems like it’d be important to him.

As I wander through the house, I feel someone grab a hold of my upper arm and pull me aside. I glance up to see that I’ve been collared by Alex. No doubt he wants to check in and see if I got any. He seems like he’s on the verge of laughter as he interrogates me. All I want to do is sulk.

“Graham, I just saw Pretty Boy go storming out. What did you say to him? Did you two get anywhere? Got any hickies? Did you su-”

“Alex, shut the bloody hell up. Whatever you want to ask, nothing happened.” I lean against the wall and he pats my shoulder in commiseration, still slightly giggly.

“Better luck next time, man. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to have it off with tonight. Don’t need to stay a virgin forever.” I’m not even interested in having it off tonight now. That guy was the only one that made me even consider it.

“I just don’t know when I’m gonna see him again. He dropped this necklace but nothing else to tell me who he is.” I gaze off to the side as Alex studies the beads, fiddling with them between his fingertips.

“D. A.?” he queries.

“Huh?” I mumble.

“D. A. Looks like initials engraved on this bead,” Alex tilts his head from side to side, squinting to get a better look. I already know he’s drunk as all get go. His finger remains hooked around the necklace as he stares down at me. Alex leans forward and presses a loose kiss to my lips. I have to push him away as gently as possible.

“C’mon Alex. That’s not us anymore. Maybe once upon a time but...” I don’t even have to complete the sentence before he nods his understanding and gives me my space.

“Sorry, I was out of line. Things are different from last year. Sometimes it’s hard to see you move on. I want the best for you though,” Alex keeps his eyes on the carpet for a short while before he mutters “His name is Damon. That’s all I know. I hope that you um… I hope you find him. You two looked cute heading upstairs together.” I know he’s probably dealing with some old wounds but it still means so much to see him make the effort to help me out and encourage me. Alex wanders off to the garden, most likely in search of someone to chat up and leaves me here in the hallway, daydreaming about my mystery man.

The search will prove to be quite a bit simpler now that I'm on a first name basis with my temporary lover but I’m sure there’s still plenty of Damon’s hanging around Colchester. I can only hope that I find _my_ Damon. No one has ever made me fall so deeply, utterly, stupidly, blissfully in love before. I’m not sure anyone ever will.

_-fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who's been supporting this prompt challenge. i sort of let loose with the word count of this chapter too so hopefully the flow is still good. bless


	14. Geeking Out Over Something (Jamon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hai friends. sorry this one's been a long time coming. i was stricken with ye olde writer's block but i'm back at it now and feeling creatively renewed. thought i'd try out a new pairing today so here we have a Jamon (Jamie x Damon) one shot! have fun

**Jamon**

**POV Damon**

I can only just hear the birds starting to sing their morning tunes when I feel movement beside me in the bed and Jamie stretches out his arms and legs.

“You know what day it is, babe?” His tone is croaky from his sleep but still sweet as ever.

“What day would that be, J?”

  
  
“Thursday.”

“And why is Thursday particularly special?”

“Well, I’m off work today. You’re off work today. We don’t have recording or rehearsals. No meetings. No nothing. Today is complete and entirely free,” He plants kisses all over my cheek as he wraps his arms around my middle from behind, “So I propose we go out on a shopping date.”

“I’d be up for something like that. How about we drop in at Mega City Comics? I saw the other day that they’ve got some good deals on at the moment. You could stock up on some mags and then we could grab lunch somewhere?” I roll over onto my back to look up at him and he’s already got a grin growing on his face. That’s all I need to feel like everything’s okay.

“You read my mind, baby.” He gives me a peck on the forehead.

Since last Christmas when I got Jamie a box of obscure vintage comics so he could study the art style, he’s been absolutely obsessed with trying to find the most unique styles that he can. He dives through bargain bins and bids on rare indie comics that no one’s ever heard of. Whenever I’m out and about town, I try to bring home new ones for him but the challenge becomes greater and greater as his collection continues to expand. Sometimes we stay up till the wee hours of the morning just reading the comics to each other, taking in the art and the stories betwixt each cover. Jamie reads like a wildfire. He devours pages upon pages. I merely watch in awe of his voracious appetite for all that excites his imagination.

I sit myself up on the edge of the bed as he passes me my clothes. Plain white t-shirt, standard denim jeans, a trucker cap and my black sunglasses. He was correct in his styling. I want to blend in today. I don’t want to be noticed. I’d just like to spend a day out with my boyfriend and help him grow his stack of comics. I get recognised a little less nowadays since I let my hair grow out more but I don't think I mind it. There’s a certain comfort I find to anonymity. Being able to walk down a street and live like a regular person is something I haven’t been able to achieve in quite a while. 

By the time I’m done getting dressed, Jamie is already doing up his belt and fixing his hair a little before patting his wallet in one pocket and his keys in the other. I don’t drive so he carts us around even when I’m taking him out on a date. We make it work. I hoist myself off of the bed and hug him tightly from behind, kissing the back of his neck before I rest my chin on his shoulder, gazing at us in the mirror. 

“You look very proper and smart today, my love.”

“My love? That’s awfully romantic of you, Day.” His smile is sweet and mischievous.

“Can’t a sad, old bastard say something sweet about his boyfriend?” I whisper, giving a joking pout.

“I supposed he can, but you’re neither sad, old nor are you a bastard.”

“Now I know you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Am not.”

  
“Are too.” I shoot back.

“Whatever. You’re a tool,” He tenderly kisses my cheek and steps away from the mirror with a soft, contented sigh. I already know he’s g’d up for today. “But you know, you’re my tool, Damon. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“Jamie, my sweet dear, your gay is showing.”

“Damon, for Christ’s sake. We’ve been dating for three years.” He shakes his head with playful exasperation. I’m gonna die if he keeps being such a sweetheart.

It’s not long before we’ve left the flat and made it downstairs to the car. As I hop in beside him, I turn on the radio and try to find something good for us to listen too. I get increasingly dissatisfied with the songs that get played. It’s all sorts of shit about parties and sex. I never feel like I can connect with it in any real way. It’s not long before I just turn off the radio and rest my hand on Jamie’s thigh like always. We don’t really do grand gestures. Just sweet little ones. Love doesn’t have to be marching bands and fields of tulips that spell out your lover’s name. I tap rhythms into Jamie’s thigh with my fingertips. There’s always music in my head but I’m never sure if I’ve heard it before. The drive through to the town centre is predictable but that’s what makes it so comfortable. Jamie whistles a tune that goes along with my tapping.

As we pull into a parking space nearest to the comic store, we let out a sigh of happiness and I lean over to kiss his cheek one more time before we’re out in public. It’s already known to the tabloids that we’re an item but I prefer not to give them too much material to plaster all over their covers. One kiss never feels like enough though so I touch his cheek and hold his gaze as I whisper.

“Jamie, I love you. I really want you to know that.” I glance into his eyes one more time before I shut mine and let my lips land gently against his. I love it when I can feel him smile into a kiss.

“I love you too, you goofball.”

The walk up the street is easy going. I do notice a few confused stares coming my way, folks squinting with vague familiarity. I’m kind of used to the ‘I could swear I know you from somewhere’ look that I get. Jamie’s been getting recognised more though which he tends to find flattering and I feel so very proud of him when it happens. 

I can see it in his face how excited Jamie gets every step we take closer to the comic store. It just makes me fall in love with him as though I’m seeing him for the first time. I decide to be a little bold and take his hand as we walk in through the front door. The staff here know us for being regulars to the store so we’re greeted with smiles and waves. It feels nice to be known in the right places. It isn’t long before Jamie’s browsing the bargain bins with wide, keen eyes. I shuffle through the new releases to see if there’s anything that’s not in our collection yet.

Occasionally, I glance over at my boyfriend and see the gleeful fervor with which he flips through magazines. It’s moments like these that I like to just walk up behind him, hold him close and gaze over his shoulder at whatever he’s reading. Right now the pages he flips through are occupied by images of an anthropomorphic cat dressed as a samurai and wielding a katana. Bizarre to say the least. Jamie seems enthralled. It’s all I can do to stop myself from just holding him forever but I’m aware of the staff and don’t want to make things awkward for them even though they seem to welcome us.

It’s funny because after things fell apart between me and Justine, I thought I’d thrown away my last shot at love. I thought that would be the end of it and I’d be single for the rest of my days. Life has a funny way of bringing you what you need right when you need it most. That happened to be Jamie. The passion he has for art and creativity reawakened my love for it too. Not only that but the light he brings into my life gave me the strength I needed to get up and try again at many things including letting myself love again- opening up to another human being.

He sees through the cracks in my facade and cleaves them deftly apart as though my shield is crafted in plasticine. 

“Damon? _Damon?_ ” Jamie beckons me out of my daydreaming.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve got everything I need here.”

“Sure you’ve got it all, babe? We’ve got plenty of time.” I never rush him when we go to comic stores. The best thing is to let him browse.

“I’m certain. All I wanna do is spend my time with you,” His smile is sweet and almost cartoonish. He charms me effortlessly with it as he turns to face me and holds my shoulders, “Anywhere I am, as long as I’m with you, it’s the right place to be.”

_-fin-_

  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Teaching Each Other How To Do Something (Gralex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo frends. i hope you've all had a decent weekend. the world is confusing and scary right now so enjoy some soft Gralex content. This chapter is set in 1994 for reference

**Gralex**

**POV Graham**

Not a lot of people would know this but the perfect way to learn bass is while sitting on your bedroom floor and listening to the cars outside rumble past. Unless of course you’re me. I’ve been trying for hours to wrap my head around the sheets of bass tabs that Alex left for me but without any help, I’m doomed to run around in circles trying to figure all this shit out. I’ve been teaching him how to play guitar and today’s the day he’s meant to start showing me how to play the bass. My teacher has not arrived. Guess the student isn’t ready? Since he’s had work this morning, I figured it’d be best to try and get a head start. 

I constantly find myself getting distracted or procrastinating. The knick knacks, books and photos that fill our shelves are a welcome diversion from the challenge at hand. The rest of the room has a shabby but homely feel about it. Hairline cracks grace the edges of the cornicing, the corners of which are ornate. The building is quite old and has seen many tenants before the likes of Alex and I. I think we both like living somewhere with history. Most of the furniture is at least seventy years old and the moth-bitten drapes are made of a sparse, faded red velvet.

I’ve quit my practice out of frustration at least four times now and I’m just about to call it off again until the front door opens downstairs. Footsteps ascend the staircase at an easy pace. Cheerful whistling echoes through the house and I know right away that Alex is home early from work. A welcome surprise to say the least. I hear him stride across the landing and the bedroom door swings gently open with a mournful creak.

“You’re still having at it, babe?” I glance back over my shoulder at him with a relieved smile and get up, setting the bass down on our bed before I drape my arms around his neck and let out a calmed sigh.

“Only just. Feels like those tabs you left are hell bent on sending me half barmy. You know how I know you wrote them yourself? Because it’s bloody impossible to wrap your head around if you’re a beginner. You’re cruel like that.”

“Well, for your information, I could be a lot more devastatingly cruel with my bass lines but I simply chose not to.” He flicks his dark fringe away from his eyes and shoots me a cheeky wink.

“Devastatingly cruel, my arse. You’re a right showoff, baby. That’s what you are.” I tease him. We’re always having joking jabs at each other. None of it actually means anything.

“Would you still like this showoff to show you how to play bass?” Alex’s hands slide down to my waist as he pulls me just a touch closer, “Or would you prefer I leave you as you were to slog it out on your own?”

“I would greatly prefer to give this a go under your tutelage.”

“Now that’s what I thought you’d say. Go on then. Let’s give this a good old college try together.” Alex pats the small of my back before taking off his boots and jacket, sitting down loosely cross-legged on the bed. He’s as aloof as ever as he leans back, resting his weight on his palms. If Alex were an animal (besides human of course), I think he’d be a cat. His air is that of nonchalance and cool collection. He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette to fiddle with while I position myself to face him with the bass in my arms.

“How’s my form?” I mumble, locking eyes with him as I wait for feedback. He stares me up and down analytically.

“Could do with some work. The hand shape is slightly different to guitar. You’ve got to make sure your wrists are comfortable, darling. Rotate your hand slightly around the neck and let your thumb rest on the back of it parallel to your fingers on the other side. That’ll allow you to reach notes that are further apart.” He tilts his head as he studies the form of my hands, nibbling his lip with focus.

“Better now?” I feel small under his gaze when he takes on this teacherly role. It’s quite attractive on him. 

“Much better. And try to avoid looking at the frets if you can. Just makes it look cooler when you play,” He gives a brief chuckle before nodding towards me, “Well go on, Grem. Give it a go. Try that first sheet in the book. I’ll tap a beat for you to follow.” He begins to pat his thigh to a slow rhythm with which I’m able to decently keep up with. My fingers brush against the thick metal strings as I keep my eyes on the tabs, trying as best as I can to read them right. Alex nods along with each bar I complete and it spurs me on to keep at it.

At one point however, I find myself fumbling over every second note and he raises his hands.

“Okay baby, let’s take a moment here. Alright?” He sits up and shuffles to sit himself right behind me, his legs on either side of my hips as he reaches around me to hold the bass in his hands while letting me hold on too. Alex’s voice always becomes so soft when he’s trying to help me. “What you’re gonna want to do here is hammer down on that note and then pull off on this one. Got it?”

I nod my understanding and start over from the bar where everything began going all skewiff. Whenever I improve and play for a longer stretch, he rests his arms around my middle and kisses the back of my neck to encourage me. Sometimes it feels like more of a distraction though. Some kisses linger for a while longer than others. Some kisses are pressed harder against my skin. Some kisses are accompanied by a wistful sigh. All of them make me feel cherished and loved. Eventually I end up shutting my eyes and become peacefully distracted from the bass so much so that I just hold it and lean back against Alex.

“We’ve gotta meet Damon and Dave for practice tonight, Lex.” I mumble.

“Curses,” he murmurs near my ear “I was going to take you out for dinner if we had a minute. Somewhere real nice too. That joint that does the fettuccine boscaiola you like. I’d wine you and dine you.”

“You know the rest of that phrase, don’t y-” He playfully clamps his palm over my mouth as I giggle, shushing me through laughter.

“Shush up, Grem. I’m trying to be romantic here.” My cheek is littered with kisses before Alex courteously uncovers my mouth. I know he’s in a flirtatious mood. I knew it the moment he woke up this morning. He was draping himself all over me and nuzzling my neck. I had to steal the quilts all to myself so he’d finally get out of bed to go to work. Fuckin’ goofy bastard.

“Well, your ‘romance’ is getting in the way of me learning the bass.” I turn slightly so I can look at him more easily.

“The first thing you’ll learn is that playing bass is all about romance. You have to be firm but precise when you press down on the strings,” he rests his arm around my waist and gestures lithely with his free hand, his eyes locked on mine. His voice is like the warmth you feel from a campfire, “You have to keep your touch nimble but certain. Make the instrument sing for you.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at how unsubtle he is.

“I suppose you'll tell me I need to make love to the music next. Is this the kind of palaver you used to use to pull groupies?"

"...Maybe."

"You're completely incorrigible," I set the bass aside once again and climb onto his lap, feeling his shoulders and letting my thumbs rest against the side of his neck. Gazing peacefully down into Alex’s eyes, I murmur “But I’ll be damned if I’m not in love with you.”

“Would you look at my luck? A sweet thing like you is in love with me? Someone up there must have a soft spot for me. Surely you’re an angel come down from Heaven.”

“You really think that’s going to work on me?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” He puts on a shoddy, loose Dutch accent, probably to get a giggle out of me, “Worked pretty nicely after that last show in Amsterdam.” This elicits both a chuckle and a blushing face out of me.

“Oh bugger off, you’re not allowed to make me go all red like this. I look like a bleedin’ tomato, I do.”

“On the contrary. It’s my exact profession.” He peppers my cheek, my jawline and my neck with kisses. I let my eyes drift shut. There’s something about his love that calms the buzzing in my mind. He makes everything clear in my mind, leaving it unmuddied by the mental clutter I tend to accrue each day.

“Alex, what would I do without you?” I mutter, nestling my face into the crook of his neck. He hugs my waist and gives a velveteen murmur.

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t get anywhere with the bass.” Alex gives my sides a gentle squeeze as he rolls me over onto my back. His head rests just under my chin as he kisses various soft spots on my neck. His love is tender. His love is true. This man of mine… He makes me feel alive.

_ -fin- _


	16. Needing Each Other (Gramon) NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jus gonna throw it out there now, this chapter is PWP so enjoy. NSFW obviously for very much sex. As goes era, think Modern Life Is Rubbish. Cheers xooxoox
> 
> Also thank you to everyone who continues to support me and my writing. you're the realest

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

The concert has been an absolute powerhouse. We’ve just started our encore song for the night, Oily Water, and the crowd is losing their fucking minds but all I can focus on is him. He won’t stop it. He won’t fucking quit. 

Every time I look to my right, there he is. He acts all sullen and disenchanted but I just know he’s trying to lure me in. He knows it’s working. He knows how much it attracts me when he acts so blasé even when I’m putting my all in to impress him. No matter how many times I look up with star-gazey eyes while I hold the mic. No matter how much I pull on my t-shirt or bite my lip. He keeps his eyes on his guitar or he lets his head tilt back with the music. What I feel for him is so much more than “want”. 

It runs deeper than that. It rushes through my veins. It spills over my edges.

I need Graham.

It gives me such a fucking rush when he so much as glances my way. It’s all I can do to stop myself from walking over there to him and just dropping to my knees right here on stage. He makes me want to be everything I can for him- Anything he could possibly wish for. Everything his heart desires.

The way Graham’s guitar crunches and reverberates makes my knees feel like a plate of Hartley’s Jelly. This man is going to make me lose my fucking mind. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep myself off of him the minute we get to the dressing rooms. The song pulls me about in its current and I feel as though I’m slipping under the waves of desire. Graham’s quick, repetitive strumming during the instrumental makes the muscles in his arm taut. His lips brush against the microphone whenever he leans in to sing his harmonies. I swap from dancing to the cacophony to singing the echoing “oohs” right until we reach the end of the song and our set here tonight. The venue is intimate so gifts and things are thrown onto the stage. Various flowers, a chocolate bar, a pair of boxers. It gets wilder each time.

I gulp down half a bottle of water as I wait for us all to line up. Graham still has his guitar slung around himself as he moves over and rests his arm around my lower back, he grips my side with a slight squeeze, digging his nails into my hip for a moment. That confirms everything I suspected. We take three bows before dispersing offstage. I make sure to leave in the opposite direction of Graham. If he wants me, he can come get me.

The backstage area is illuminated by dim fluorescent lights that flicker intermittently. Somewhere along the way, I acquire a towel to wipe down my face and drape around my neck. The familiar clutter of our equipment and extra materials line the hallways to our dressing rooms. There’s two, allowing for a pair of members to get ready in each. Graham and I, of course, are sharing the first down the hall. 

By the time I turn the corner of the hallway, I see him at the other end. The magnetic pull between us is too much to resist and we stride towards each other with utter determination. Our bodies slam together as I hold the sides of his neck and he flings his arms around my form. He kisses me deeply without an ounce of hesitation. One hand slides down to grab my arse and  _ hard _ . One hand slides up the back of my neck to yank on my hair and expose my throat. In the throes of passion, we pivot against and my back makes contact with the wall as Graham reaches for the dressing room door, fumbling to open it up before backing into the room and pulling me in with him. I shove him back by the shoulders onto the worn out, beer-stained couch, shutting the door behind me before I practically leap onto his lap.

“You knew exactly what you were doing back there, didn’t you? Think I wasn’t gonna see you acting all aloof? Think I wasn’t gonna be all over you the second we got out here?” I mutter as I hold onto the front of his striped t-shirt and grind on his lap, working up some decent friction between us. Graham’s hold on my hips is vice-like as he grinds up under me as well.

“Damon, you say that as though you weren’t lifting your shirt and making faces like you were being fucked. G-Going all cross-eyed and gazing up at the sky like you were begging for it,” he slips his hand under my crotch and starts to palm me, causing me to choke down a whimper, “You slut.”

“Y-You say that as though you don’t love it when I’m like this. I kn-know you, Gray.” Grinding into his palm feels like Heaven. My body is starting to run hot as I lean down to kiss his mouth. The taste is that of some kind of minty chewing gum mingling with tobacco and whiskey. Our movements are slow and dripping with passion as I feel up the sides of Graham’s neck and slide my fingers into his hair, gripping lightly. I moan into his mouth. He bites my bottom lip. His belt buckle catches my eye and my trembling hands reach for it, undoing it swiftly as the heat in my cheeks starts to burn. I clumsily climb off Graham’s lap and situate myself between his thighs, kneeling on the floor before him and waiting for an affirmative nod. He signals yes. I drag his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and yank them off entirely. So I’m a slut, am I? I’ll show him.

“Gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he mumbles, looking beautifully dishevelled already. I give an obedient nod. I normally like to play a bit of a brat whenever he and I fuck but tonight, I’ll give him what he needs, no questions asked.

I like to start off simple. I hold his cock in my palm gently and kiss around the base, giving occasional licks. His hips buck at the contact. He’s so responsive. Slowly but surely, I kiss my way up his shaft and to the head, tracing the tip of my tongue around it and watching as he stares at this display. When I know I’ve got his attention- How could I not have it right now?- I take him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his erection. The taste is musky. I hope that he’s enjoying the show as I bob steadily. I pull off for a moment before dipping my head down and taking his cock all the way in. He bucks his hips again and I feel Graham’s palm on the back of my head as my throat tightens. My gag reflex is gonna hate me as I lift off almost all the way before doing it again. Shit gets real when Graham’s fingers slide into my hair, this grip on my strands tightening. Before I know it, he’s thrusting into my mouth and tears are welling up in my eyes, making them glassy as I stare up at him. Each moan, groan and grunt is intoxicating. He surprises me though.

“I want to fuck you. Right now. I want to feel my cock in you.” Graham isn’t usually this direct. He must really want me, dare I say, need me. I pull off of him with a slight cough, trying to compose myself as I wipe my eyes.

“Yeah? Want to fuck me, Gray? Wanna fuck me raw?” I tease him with every sentence, running my hands up his thighs as I crawl back onto Graham’s lap, “I bet you want to see me scream for you,” I lean in closer to whisper in his ear, my lips brushing his earlobe, “Remember that time we let Alex rail me while you watched? M-Make me scream that hard.”

“Oh, I remember that alright.” He caresses my body as he undresses me, removing my shirt, unzipping my jeans and pulling down my briefs.

“Fuck me like that. Give it  _ all  _ to me, Gray.” He doesn’t take much convincing. Before I know it, Graham’s pushed me over onto the couch and wedged a pillow under my hips to elevate them. That's his caring streak always shining through.

“Day, are you ready?” He slaps my thigh sharply and I let out a whine while I nod. He presses two fingertips to my bottom lip and I suck on them to dampen the digits, gazing up at Graham with half-lidded eyes. Within a few seconds, those digits are warming me up and I let out strained whines of pleasure. 

"P-Please, Gray.  _ Fuck _ me." I plead. My chest and neck are flushed as I stroke his shoulders. Graham hooks his hands under my thighs and spreads my legs apart before kissing the underside of my jawline as he pushes in. The way he fucks is utterly sublime and I feel like I’m dreaming. Of course there’s a twinge of pain with each thrust but I get used to it and soon enough, the pain is replaced entirely by splendid pleasure.

“You feel… Oh god. Oh g-god.” I feel his forehead against my shoulder as he pants. This is exactly what I’ve been craving since the moment we went on stage. Graham’s hands rest at my sides as he holds me close. To give him better access, I wrap my legs high around his torso, letting my head rest back against the cushions. Every second that we’re together like this, I feel the temperature between us rising. 

The friction.

The sweat.

The stifled moans and the needy whimpering.

It all comes naturally for Graham and I. He hits places that make my eyes roll back and my body tremor all over. When his hand wraps around my throat and holds me down, I feel like I’ve left my body. Eventually it all becomes simply too much to handle.

“Graham, f-for the love of God, don’t stop! Please don’t stop. I-I’m close. I’m nearly th-...” 

“I know, baby,” his tone is comforting, almost protective. Graham knows how to take care of me as he murmurs warmly in my ear. “God, I’m dying to see you come.”

That’s all I need for sparks to be sent flying. My climax hits me like a doubledecker bus and I lightly convulse between Graham’s staggered, emphatic thrusts. He’s struggling to hold it together as he too lapses into paroxysms of pleasure. All I can do is cling to him as he fucks me deep, hips stuttering and limbs shaking.

The moment of stillness we share is like Heaven on earth as my lover plants kisses up my jawline and down my neck, gracing my collarbone with gentle pecks. Every now and then, my thighs twitch with residual tension. I comb my fingers through his dark brown locks and mumble.

“I think I might be in love with you, Grem. You’ve stolen my heart.”

Graham giggles deliriously into my shoulder before letting out a soft sigh.

“You wouldn’t have a clue how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he’s so tender as he holds my cheeks and whispers into our kisses, “You’ve captured my heart and I fear I’ll never ever get it back…”

“You can keep mine. It belongs to you anyway, Gray.”

_ -fin- _


	17. Washing Something (Dalex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey frends. today's chapter is set in 1996. i was gonna try and write a more romantic chapter for this prompt but leaning into the domestic aspect felt right. Considering doing another nsfw chapter soon so lemme know which pairing you'd like to see for that!~

**Dalex ft. so much domesticity.**

**POV Alex**

  
  


“Dames…” I mumble against the back of my boyfriend’s neck, “Dames, c’mon. We’ve gotta be up early.” I kiss a tender spot on his neck just behind his ear and breathe him in deeply. He smells clean from last night’s shower but with his own natural scent lingering.

He grumbles defiantly and backs himself closer into my embrace to tell me that he’s comfortable and will not be shifted from his place in our bed. Unfortunately for him, his immovable object is no match for my unstoppable force and I’ll be damned if I don’t get him out of bed at a reasonable hour. Tomorrow’s the day our landlord comes to inspect the house so we need to get everything cleaned up today. We tend to tack on extra chores as well seeing as we’re usually well into the swing of things on cleaning days. It’s just about seven o’clock in the morning but I already know just by the feel of the breeze coming in through our windows that it’s going to be a warm day.

Five years ago, I probably would have recoiled at the thought of these kinds of domesticities but I’ve learned along the way that they can be enjoyable and fulfilling if you have the right person with you. I’m lucky enough that this “right person” is the waifish, lazy sod that’s currently snuggled up in my arms as I try to coax him to get out of bed. Planting kisses all over his bare neck and shoulder (a staple of my morning routine), I murmur my soft persuasions in his ear.

“Babe, if you get up in the next twenty minutes, I promise I’ll take you to Markson’s on Albany St on Sunday. I know you want to check out the pianos they got in last week.”

“Hmm?” I’ve piqued his interest greatly. Damon lifts his head and rolls onto his back with sleepy, half-shut eyes but a pleasantly surprised smile.

“Maybe we could think about getting one? Consider it a late birthday present.” I whisper, brushing my knuckles up and down his sternum.

“Awright, you’ve got a deal.” His voice is croaky from his long sleep. I fall in love with him tenfold.

The morning starts off slow with me preparing a traditional english breakfast for the two of us. With all the work we need to get done today, we need to fuel up properly. That and I just like to treat my boyfriend whenever I get the chance. I chuckle quietly to myself when I hear Damon come shuffling into the kitchen and sit himself down at the breakfast bar of our kitchenette. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the imprints of his pillow marking his face and I can’t help giggling. Sleep tends to leave him looking like he just survived a hurricane and it is the most adorable thing.

  
  


“That smells proper yum, babe,” he mumbles, flipping through the newspaper that lays open before him. He doesn’t read it with any real commitment but I still find it so charming to see him lightly browsing the pages and nodding along as though he’s actually reading the articles

“Thanks, Day. Cookin’ it up special for you.” Today already feels like it’s going to be wonderful.

The housework itself is horribly mundane and the second storey window of our flat is looking extremely tempting but I have to remind myself that all this work will be worth it. Plus with Damon to help me, it all becomes a game. He’s especially full of mischief today so there’s no shortage of cushions being tossed at me or getting hugged from behind and threatened with tickles while I’m trying to dust a high shelf. Sometimes we make it a goal to clean one room from top to bottom before the other can clean a similarly sized room. It’s not always a game of charades but we make do. It isn’t all that long before the inside of the house is clean and tidy. I’m in desperate need of some time outside to get some fresh air and collect my thoughts. As easy as it can be to get work done with the two of us at it, I’m still stressed about tomorrow, praying that all goes well and we don’t have to go house hunting again. We get onto outside chores and I’m grateful for the change of scenery except when my small, white Volkswagen Polo catches my eye. God, that fucking thing needs a wash.

We run buckets of water. We retrieve sponges and car soap. This’ll be quick work no doubt.

As I stand up on tiptoes, I’m able to reach most of the top of the car to wash off the dust and grime that’s accumulated there over the last month or so. This is all going quite well until of course, Damon’s mischievous streak rears its head once again. I can’t blame him. These household chores are deathly boring so anything to make it more fun is welcome.

“Incoming!” He yells out. I’m accosted with a sopping wet car sponge. It hits my upper back and absolutely saturates my shirt. Thank fuck it’s a warm day because otherwise, I’d have Damon’s guts for garters. I still ham up my reaction though to give him a giggle, acting all shocked and playing pretend.

“Dames, did you see that? That sponge came out of nowhere and hit me! Unbelievable!” He’s already laughing at my reaction and it’s precious to see him so happy. Damon’s smile could cure cancer, his laughter doubly so.

“I d-didn’t get a look at it,” he stammers through giggles “Must have been aliens or somethin’.”

“Someone have thrown that sponge. I think you know more than you’re lettin’ on, Albarn,” I walk over him with a playfully suspicious tone to my voice as I hold his hips “And I’m gonna get it out of you whether you like it or not. Even if I have to tickle you.”

“You fuckin’ wouldn’t!” He’s trying to wriggle away from me but it’s going to be no use.

“Oh, I _would._ Tell me everything you know or I’m gonna have you giggling like a hyena.”

“A-Alex, I promise I don’t know who threw the sponge!” he wails as he tries to escape my hold.

“Liar!” I declare, “You know exactly who threw it. Tell me now or I’ll tickle you into next Tuesday.”

“You’ll never make me talk!” I can’t help but laugh into his shoulder as I hold him close.

“Damon, you made me do this,” I go in without hesitation tickling the everloving fuck out of his sides. He howls with laughter and it’s all I can do to not keep tickling him forever just to hear the glee in his voice. Lucky for Damon, he’s able to evade me and slips out of my hold, running into our backyard and across the lawn. “I’m gonna fucking get you!”

A spare bucket of water catches my eye so I lift the hefty thing and chase Damon about the yard. So help me God, I’m going to drench this beautiful bastard I have the fortune to call my boyfriend. As I run back and forth in hot pursuit of Damon, I manage to keep most of the water in the bucket before I successfully tackle him onto the grass, straddling his waist to pin him down. The bucket is held high as a looming threat.

“Tell me who threw the sponge, Dames. Tell me and I’ll put the bucket down.”

“Over my cold, dead body!” he yells out in joking defiance. Damon yelps and covers his face swiftly before I tip the bucket of water onto him, completely soaking his hair and his upper half. His light grey t-shirt sticks damply to his skin, letting me see the contourof his body. Damon is completely sodden and I can’t help but keel over in peels of laughter as he spits water back at me.

“You little shit!” I lay on the lawn and giggle unabashedly. We both laugh till our sides hurt and he crawls over to sit beside me as I prop myself back up. The grass is cool and soft between my fingers as I watch Damon sit himself down with a contented sigh. I lay my hand between us and gaze up at the clouds drifting by. I shut my eyes with a peaceful sigh as I feel his warm hand wrap around my own. Listening to the neighbourhood ambience takes my mind to a calm place just knowing that everyone else is going about their lives on this warm Sunday afternoon. The air smells vegetal with the scent of freshly cut grass wafting about in the breeze. This is only amplified more by the heat.

Damon gives my hand a squeeze. I watch him staring up at the sky, his eyes focused on the clouds that drift past, and I feel a distinct sense that everything is okay in our world. I lean over to kiss his temple. It’s a small, simple gesture but it feels right to give him that little reminder that I love him so dearly. I nuzzle the side of his head and let go of his hand so I can rest my arm around his shoulders. His damp shirt is cool against my skin as I take a deep, meditative breath and release a calm sigh. It feels as though this backyard is our whole world.

“Today was good, wasn’t it?” Damon murmurs. He speaks with an absentminded tone but I know how tuned in he is to how the both of us feel, “Like, it was a really _good_ day.”

“Yeah, it was.” We don’t need to say much really. We already know that the unspoken is what matters. When Damon looks up into my eyes with his own icy blues, I get that same fluttering feeling I always get. I hope that never fades away.

  
\- _fin_ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall. the next chapter is going to be on the longer side. i really connected with it. it's a little sad though so keep that in mind. Gonna publish it tomorrow!


	18. One Of Them Is Sick (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so frends, this chapter is a hell of a lot longer than the others by a long shot. I tend to average about 1500 words per chapter and this one turned out to be roughly 4300 so woop woop! It's gonna be a little ouchy to begin with.
> 
> TW for mentions of abuse/violence.

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

The audio crackles as rain taps softly upon my window and trickles down the glass. My room is dimly lit by the glow of the street lights outside. His voice fills the room.

“ _Hiya. It’s me. You probably already knew that. I’m sorry to call s-..._ ” There’s a coughing sound and I faintly make out a shiver. He composes himself, “ _S-So late but I just really need you to come over. I’m sorry to bug you. It’s just I’m in a bad way a-and there’s no one else I can really go to. I’ve got food poisoning and I just really need someone here. You know I wouldn’t normally hassle you but I haven’t really got anyone else I can call,”_ The voice on the other end sounds constricted. Close to tears almost. “ _A-Anyway, you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I’d just really appreciate some company._ ”

Graham and I broke up three months ago after the release of the band’s latest album, The Great Escape. It was ugly, fiery, spiteful and every other word you could apply to a relationship that utterly imploded. Even “imploded” doesn’t feel like a powerful enough word. It was a supernova. Our romance had been quite passionate and volatile at the best of times so it was only fitting that the end of it would be a cataclysm. Not only was the break up a beastly thing, but it was public. Well, not our relationship prior but the fighting and the tension had been well-documented by the British tabloids. They had no idea why the fighting started though. “Albarn & Coxon feuding over creative clash!”. “A rivalry to put the Gallagher's to shame.” So much fucking bullshit was spun. None of them knew it was the quarreling of lovers.

Why did he have to call? Why did he have to leave his words in my voicemail for me to have to listen to at this ungodly hour of the morning? I’m half awake and the last thing I need right now is to be having this crisis over whether or not I should go visit and care for my ex-boyfriend. We didn’t do anything like that in the year that we were together. We weren’t ever domestic. Romantic? Yes. But never domestic. We didn’t do breakfast in bed and we didn’t do dinners with family. We worked, wrote music, fucked or made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms every night that we were within a 50 metre radius of each other. We wrote poetry and painted each other. We were equally the other’s obsession.

It all fell apart with the bickering and then the rows. We made many, many mistakes. It got physical in one instance. Graham sustained a scraped cheek. I nursed a cut lip for a week. Thankfully there were others around to pull us apart but it just goes to show how turbulent the relationship could be. We were a firestorm.

Right now however, I lay here alone in my queen-sized bed. It feels like only yesterday that Graham was enveloped in my embrace or I in his each and every night. None of it feels real. I glance out the window and see that it’s still pitch black. The wet roads reflect golden light from the street lamps above. I can hear the light pitter-pattering of rain against my roof. Even on bitterly cold nights like this, I keep the window open just a crack. Rain has washed away the stench of smog. The night feels clean. Reborn almost. Of course he’d call me on a night like this. This is a Graham type of night. The rain’s practically whispering his name.

I reach over to my landline and dial his number. I don’t even have to look at the buttons. I know it off by heart. Second nature. Muscle memory or whatever you want to call it.

Dial tone.

Dial tone. 

_Dial tone_.

A click. Thank God.

“Hello?” a raspy voice mumbles from the other end of the line.

“I got your message.”

There’s dead silence for a few seconds. He must not know what to say. I wouldn’t either.

“W-Well, I guess you’re not coming over then?” He sounds thoroughly embarrassed for even having called me at all.

“I am.” I sound surprised by my own words.

Another long pause.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

“You will.” I hang up quickly, sparing myself the process of having to say goodbye and all that awkward shit. I hold the receiver down on the base, jitters coursing through me. God, this is a terrible idea. What am I thinking? Am I even thinking at all? I’m about to drive to my ex’s house in the middle of the night cause he ate some bad fucking chicken or something. What is wrong with me? I can feel tears burning up in the corners of my eyes as I try to focus on something in the room. I’m a fool. It can’t be helped. All I can do is haul myself out of bed. I have places to be now. Scavenging off the floor for suitable clothes, I find a light grey sweater with bands of orange, red and blue adorning the upper arms. I pair this with the jeans that are draped over my dresser. I stumble over my Volley’s so they’ll have to do as goes footwear. I blink many times to try and shoo away my involuntary teariness. 

Like dialling his number on my phone, the drive to Graham’s neck of the woods is something I could complete blindfolded. My windscreen wipers form a steady beat that’s just the right speed for my mind to start composing tunes by itself. There’s always music in my mind one way or another. 

Street signs pass me by. I don’t read them. I already know what they say. Before I know it, I’ve pulled up in front of Graham’s flat. I can see from out here that the lounge room light is on. I grip the steering wheel as I stare at the frontage of his home. I could leave right now. I could drive off and he wouldn’t be any the wiser. I want to go but I can’t bring myself to just leave him suffering even after everything. I glance over once again at the warm glow of his front room. I remember the two of us sharing long-winded sessions of kissing while the TV droned on. My mind is drawn to one particular night that he held onto my throat while he kissed me. I find myself touching my neck as I recall the memory. It’s all so vivid even though the moment is now lost to the sands of time.

I can’t stay here in the car. I yank myself out of this stupour and lock my car, walking quickly up the front path so I can get out of the rain. I press my thumb against the buzzer and wait for a sign of life. Shuffling and movement can be heard inside. He better hurry up because I’m freezing my bollocks off out here. I shove my hands into my pockets to protect them from the nipping chill.

“Graham, it’s me!” I call out, praying he’ll refrain from trying to check through the peephole. I shouldn’t be here. Why did I come here? My mind falls silent when I hear the metallic machinations of locks coming undone. The door is slowly opened and a feeble looking form, still taller than me but weaker than ever, is revealed. Graham looks like something the cat coughed up just before it fucking died. His face is pallid and there appears to be a sheen of sweat that glistens faintly on his skin.

“Cor blimey” he scratches out. He sounds like he deepthroated a cactus. “It _is_ you.”

We stand there in silence for a moment before the cold gets far too much and I need to break this pause.

“S-So can I come in? Rather nippy out ‘ere.”

“Oh, oh of course,” Graham steps aside to afford me room to come in, shutting the door after us “As you can probably tell, I’m rather poorly. I just-” His face screws up slightly as he covers his mouth. He seems uncertain of his stomach. “I just need someone around. No one else answered my calls. Ma and Pa are in India on holiday. Think I need the break more than they do at the moment.”

I sigh deeply, wanting to be kind but needing to be honest.

“I don’t do small talk, Graham. You know that,” I eye him carefully. Not for fear of him. No, of course not. I’m just cautious not to stare for too long. I don’t want him to think I’m in love still. “How can I help you?”

“I hadn’t really thought about that. I erm… Yeah, I hadn’t thought about it. Well, I could just really do with someone to talk to. Maybe we could have a drink?” Almost every sentence is punctuated by a soft cough. “Or if you wouldn’t mind terribly, I could really do with something hot to eat. I would cook but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep somewhere or lose focus and burn the place down. That and I've never been that much of a cook.” He giggles awkwardly. Rightfully so. This _is_ fucking awkward.

“I’m sure something like that could be organised. How about you have a lie down and I’ll whip up something warm?” God, I feel like I’m speaking a foreign language “Thoughts on soup?”

“Soup is more than fine.” He stares at me for longer than feels comfortable. He’s always had a habit of losing track of time. “I’m so sorry for dragging you out of bed to be here. I’m sure you have other people you’d rather be around than me.”

“You’d be surprised.” I mutter. Not really wanting to carry on with this kind of talk, I make my way to the kitchen. Once I’m there, I need to lean against one of the counters and centre myself. What the fuck am I doing in the kitchen of my ex’s flat? Why am I back here? I press my palms over my eyes and rub my face thoroughly. My throat feels tight. I don’t normally feel so flustered but I can’t help but feel as though I’m making a mistake being here. 

Focus, Damon. Get your act together. Make the damn soup, maybe stay the night and then get the fuck out.

I zone out to the ambience of the TV playing in the other room. Mentally, I am far, far away as I search the fridge for cooked chicken and then the pantry for noodles and creamed corn. I’m an okay cook. I never had to do it much when Graham and I were dating. Most nights we ordered food from local joints around the area. I don’t think I ever made him a proper meal. We mostly made dinners for ourselves or ate out. Like I said. Romantic but never domestic.

This recipe for soup is rather quickly made and easy enough to eyeball the measurements for. I become more lucid once again as I find myself stirring the ingredients about in the pot on the stove. The television set falls silent. There’s a faint groan and the soft sound of shuffling footsteps. Graham enters the kitchen at a struggling pace and sits himself at the breakfast bar, resting his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands. His fingers creep into his hair and he rubs his scalp. I used to do that for him. I’d massage his scalp if we had a bath together. He’d get all dreamy and demure when I did that. 

He probably wants to speak but doesn’t know the words. I’ll save him the awkwardness.

“How are you holding up? You know, besides the whole puking your guts up thing.” Graham lifts his head and rests his chin in his palm as he stares blankly at me. He gives a light shrug that tells me so little.

“Okay, I guess. I started painting again. Sort of abstract stuff. S’gettin’ cluttered up there in my room though. I never get rid of any of them. Not even my really old ones.”

The paintings of me. The paintings of us. He wouldn’t have said that if he wasn’t trying to tell me something. That phrase loops around my mind even as I try to form a sentence.

“Yeah, I get that too with a lot of my song notes. My writing too. Oh, and my poems.” I glance at him and we make eye contact. It’s brief- just a couple of seconds- but it’s tense. He’s the first to break and looks down at the faux-marble counter, tracing the veins in the pattern as he mutters.

“I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I can’t either,” I sigh deeply and turn down the heat on the soup to just let it simmer for a while. “So what did you eat that fucked you up?”

“I think it was the chicken kebabs I ordered two weeks ago.”

I furrow my brows with confusion.

“But that’s two weeks ago. Why are you sick now?” I query.

“I ordered them two weeks ago. I ate them yesterday.” That makes a lot more sense.

“Oh. Got it.” The silence that follows is difficult for me to deal with. I hate small talk but I also hate silence. I need to fill it with music or even just a rhythm. Unfortunately, right now doesn’t quite feel like the best time to lapse into percussion.

“You can stay the night if you’d like. Least I can do to help you while you’re helping me out like this.” Graham mumbles.

“I think I might. The rain’s gonna get heavier tonight. I’m not keen on driving late in the rain.”

“Good idea to avoid it. Also, you can grab a beer or something from the fridge if you’d like. Everything’s on me.” Memories of late nights fill my mind. We’d drink together till we passed out on the lounge room floor and woke up laying on top of each other, heads throbbing from the previous night’s shenanigans. I’m staring at him. Oh fuck, I’m staring. I’m a dumb bastard.

“Thanks. I might grab one. You want anything from the fridge?” I have to keep an eye on the soup. It’s just about ready as I grab a bottle from the fridge for myself.

“Yeah, might as well have a beer too. Probably not a great idea but since when was I the king of those?”

I grab him a bottle too and pass it over before tending to the soup. Done. I pull the ladle from his utensil rack and serve up a bowl of soup for my seemingly rather grateful ex, passing a soup spoon over as well before I quietly sigh.

“Should I leave you to that for now? I might go watch the telly unless you want me to stick around.” He gives a gentle groan of mental discomfort. I already know he wants to ask me to stay but doesn’t want to inconvenience me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay,” I open up my bottle of beer and give it a sip, glancing up at the clock on the wall as I do so, “Past midnight. Guess I’m technically day-drinking.” Graham gives a small sniff of laughter and sips from his own bottle of beer. He takes a spoonful of soup with the frailty of an elderly man and blows ever so delicately to cool it down just enough before sipping it.

“That’s exactly what I needed. My mum makes a very close recipe to this. Well, I don’t know if it’s close but it tastes the same,” He gives another one of those brief little sniff-laughs, smiling faintly as he focuses on me. “Thank you, Damon. I mean it.”

“I know you do. You wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. You can be very, very honest like that. I admire that about you.” I keep my eyes on him as I sip my beer, glancing away only after cracking a small smile. I want to try and seem unbothered because right now, I’m unable to believe I’m here and doing this. There he is before me, the man I loved as deeply as I’ve ever loved before. Why did I let it all go wrong? No, can’t be thinking like that. Can’t get caught up in the past.

“Well thank you. Good to know you don’t hate me entirely.” He mutters between mouthfuls of soup.

“I’ve never hated you in any capacity. Don’t know if I could bring myself to feel that way about you.” I start drinking down my beer faster. I’m going to need to be tipsy to survive all this mentally.

“I appreciate the sentiment… You know, I reckon this is karma.”  
  
“What for?”

“For that one time you tried cooking for us and I told you the chicken was terrible so I ordered pizza for us instead. You pouted about it for a few days.” He probably remembers that as a quirky, funny memory. In all honesty, it hurt me rather a lot that he never apologised.

“Yeah. And I never cooked for you again. Probably karma, yeah.” My tone is brief and detached. If he didn’t know it last year, he’ll know now that it stung. I’d been trying so hard to make our relationship something that could last around that time and it felt like a slap in the face. I place my bottle down with a quiet, dejected sigh. My eyes feel warm. No. Not now. Please not tears.

“Okay, I feel like there’s something unresolved here. The air feels thick.”

“You acted like such a cunt about it. I was just trying to do something nice and the way you acted just set the tone for e-everything. It felt like the beginning of the end. _Fuck._ ” I have to cough slightly to stop myself from losing it. I wipe the inner corners of my eyes with my middle fingers before I shake my head.

“I’m… I regret doing that. I didn’t realise the impact it’d have on you. On us.”

“Well, it’s too fuckin’ late now, isn’t it? It's not like you even care anymore.” That shuts him up. Graham's quiet but I can feel an anger from him that's being pressed deep down. He is wordless for what feels like an eternity. In the time it takes for him to once again speak, he finishes his beer.

"Damon, go upstairs. I'm not saying this like a parent. Do yourself a favour and do me a favour. Go to my room and have a look around. See what you bloody well find." His tone is weary but firm. Enough said. I glance away from him and make my way upstairs, trying to pretend in my mind that I haven’t made this trip a thousand times. The eleventh step squeaks as though on cue. As I approach his bedroom door, I feel as though something’s holding me back by my shoulders. I have to push through the hesitation and finally, I enter the room. It doesn’t look much different all but for the fact that it’s messier, smells less lived-in and there’s more paintings leant in each corner of the room. I’m immediately drawn to them. As I approach the stacks, the smell of oil and turpentine becomes clear. I have to crouch down to browse through them. The old paintings of me are still there but as I sift through the piles, I see that there’s new ones. The colours are darker. Less saturated. 

As I search through more of the paintings, I see many more that depict grief, loss, loneliness, depression and longing. I remember when his art was bright and full of passion, just like my world. Without him, everything just feels a touch more colourful than grey. Fuck, I can’t think like that. One painting, however, strikes me harder than the rest. A lonely figure lays in a bed meant for two. The sheets on the empty side are crumpled. The lone figure gazes away from the centre of the bed. It’s Graham. I know it’s Graham. My chest aches as I let a grimace of hurt contort my face. Tears are a breath away.

“Still think I don’t care?” I nearly jump out of my skin as I hear Graham’s voice. I’m quick to wipe my eyes as the tears break. I rest my palm across my mouth as he stands there in the doorway. Graham shuffles over and sits on the end of the bed, pulling a blanket around his shoulders before he gives an exhausted sigh. At this moment, he looks as though he’s lived a thousand lives. 

“I d-don’t know what I can say to make this better. I’ve always had my foot in my mouth one way o-or another. You know me.” I have to hold back a sob when he pats the space beside him on the bed. I hesitate greatly, staring up at him with trepidation.

“It’s okay, I just want to talk.” Slightly disarmed, I move myself to the bed as well. It creaks just as it always used to as I find my seating. We don’t speak for quite a while, really. We simply sit in each other’s presence. He doesn’t even move much. Just being near each other feels like walking a tightrope over a pit of spikes. No matter how fiercely I battle with myself, the urge to move closer is steadfast. I’ve never been this close to Graham without having contact with him. My fingertips feel like they have a mind of their own as I slide my hand off of my thigh and rest it in the space between us. He doesn’t seem to notice the movement. I’m going to have to speak, aren’t I?

“Gray…”

“We don’t have to talk ab-”

“No, it’s. No, my hand. I’v-”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” He seems either taken aback or pleasantly surprised and I genuinely cannot tell which. However that doesn’t matter because he stares down at my hand and lays his just beside it, hooking his pinkie with mine. His hands are warm. They’re always warm. On frosty nights when we’d walk home from the pub, he’d hold my hands to keep them from going all numb. My eyes slip shut as I recall these sweet memories. They feel so far away even though they were so recent. He whispers softly, “Do you need to go home?” 

“I want to stay here… If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“That’s alright. You’re always welcome. I know that sounds weird but you’ve always got somewhere to be if you need it.” How is he so gracious about this after everything we fucking put each other through? How does he have it in his heart to still care for me? I can’t help it. I need to be closer to him. I shuffle just a little nearer to test the waters before I lean over and rest my head on Graham’s shoulder. I’m going to weep. He still wears the cologne I got him for his birthday last year. I can smell it. 

I let my tears run down my face as he nestles his chin against the top of my head. My heart shatters as he presses a kiss to my crown. I don’t want to leave here, not when things seem to be changing.

“If I had a-a second chance, I know I’d be the boyfriend you needed this time around. You have no obligation to try again with me though, I need you to know that. I just want to put it out there that I… I wouldn’t be opposed to giving it another shot if you wanted.” He whispers so carefully. I can’t imagine what it would have taken for him to muster that up. It’s a hard thing to say. He coughs gently to clear his scratchy throat, “But I understand if you don’t.”

“Gray, I need time to think about this.” His words rattle around my mind. A second chance. Try again. It all feels so fucking tempting. It all feels right. 

“That’s okay. Take as much time as you need, Dames.” I can’t even begin to quantify how much I missed Graham calling me that with his soft, caring tone. He says it as though he’s cradling the word in his hands like a baby bird. We sit like this for what must be half an hour in silence but this time, it doesn’t feel dreadful. In fact it almost feels comforting. No one knows better what we’re both going through right now than each other. He sees me. 

Graham gives my hand the most tender squeeze before sighing against the top of my head. “I missed you so much, Dames.”

This feels like a beginning.

_-fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my next chapter prompt is "Spoiling each other" and I'm planning on making it nsfw/smut/pwp so keep an eye out for that ;;))


	19. Spoiling Each Other (Gralex) NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who has been following along with this challenge. i know i'm not always on time to add chapters but the support means heaps. hope you enjoy this chapter. it's very NSFW so you've been warned. Set in 1992!

**Gralex**

**POV Graham**

Alex’s lips ghost so close to mine as he holds me by my hips and backs me up till my shoulder blades press against the wall of our hallway. Dave and Damon were given specific instructions not to be home tonight. Alex and I have been dating for two months now. Tonight’s our anniversary. I know it’s silly to celebrate every month but while we’re still in the honeymoon period, I want to take every chance I get to show him my love.

Whenever I try to steal a kiss from Alex, he pulls back just a touch, making me want him. Need him.  _ Crave _ him. I whine with frustration as he keeps beckoning for me to kiss him but giving me no relief from that desire. I have to give in and I cling to the front of his t-shirt, stretching the cotton as I pull him close to me and press my lips to his. He tastes like a warm honey liqueur. His touch feels like playing with fire. I let my teeth brush against his bottom lip softly just to tempt Alex more. It definitely works because I feel his hands drift away from my lips, slide around my waist and up my back, hiking up my t-shirt along the way. I feel cool air against my midriff but that sensation is lost in seconds when Alex presses his body against mine, holding me against the wall as tightly as he can without hurting me.

He separates from the kiss, panting softly as he looks me in the eye with a gaze brimming with lust. He ought to fuck me right here and now against the wall but I'm going to treat him tonight. Even more than I already have. Tonight, I made him a slow cooked lamb roast for dinner. Dessert consisted of homemade lemon tarts. We drank a beaujolais that I bought while on holiday in France. He’s not going to know how to act when he sees what I’ve done with our bedroom.

Alex spares no act of intimacy as he nestles his face into my neck, kissing it tenderly until I start to feel his tongue brush against the sensitive skin, my body jolting just a little when he nips the soft spots, searching for the place on my neck that always gets me hot under the collar.

“Up. J-Just up a little. No, not quite there. Just u- _ Oh! _ ” The back of my head gives a soft thunk as I let it tip back against the wall. I just know Alex is going to tease me mercilessly when his hands roam down to my arse. He squeezes so tight through my jeans it makes me push my hips against his. I let out a soft chuckle to feel his erection pressed against my upper thigh.

“Is that for me?” I murmur near Alex’s ear as he works on the lovebite he’s making high on my neck- too high for the collar of my polo shirts to cover it. He pulls away and gives a steady nod, pressing his hips to mine harder. I love how overtaken with lust he becomes.

“Sure is… You like it?”

I nod back and hold his cheek, giving him teasingly chaste kisses before tilting my head and letting my mouth open up for him. He swallows my moan when I feel him grinding against my crotch. I lift my knee up beside his hip. Alex gets the cue, grabbing me by the waist, lifting me up against the wall and holding onto the undersides of my thighs as I cinch my legs around his middle.

“Th-There’s a surprise for you in the bedroom, Al. Want to take us there and I’ll show you?”

He kisses the corner of my jaw before giving my earlobe a soft bite, tugging on it gently before murmuring warmly in my ear.

“Your wish is my command.”

Holding his cheek, I gaze deeply into his dark eyes. There’s something so very soulful about them but I can see the fire in his heart.

“No, no, no. Tonight, I’m making  _ your  _ wishes come true.”

“Lucky me.” He mutters, his lips barely an inch away from mine. We kiss, letting it deepen every few moments until our tongues begin battle against each other. It’s hot. It’s wet. It’s almost too much for me and I moan desperately into Alex’s mouth. That’s when he moves us away from the wall and carries me to our bedroom. I can’t help giggling as I reach back to open the door for him.

The atmosphere is perfect in our room. I took time to sprinkle fresh rose petals on the bed and dimmed the lights so that the candles I placed on the dressers, the side tables and the window sill weren’t upstaged. Alex glances about at all of the decorations, a bemused grin appearing on his lips before he whispers to me.

“Graham, I’d make love to you all night if I could.” Alex kisses me with unrelenting passion. He runs the tip of his tongue along the inner edge of my bottom lip before he gives it a gentle bite and then lapses back into the ravenous kiss. He’d know from being this close to me that I’m already ridiculously turned on. It becomes almost delightfully overwhelming when he lays me down on the bed. I immediately reach for my t-shirt and pull it off over my head before latching onto my belt and flicking that out of the way as well, allowing Alex to pull my jeans right off of me. I’ve been waiting for this moment. His jaw fucking drops and his eyes are wide to see that I’m wearing a lacy black thong. I’ve never worn womens’ underwear before in the bedroom so now’s as good a time as any to surprise my boyfriend with something new.

“Like what you see, sir?” I lay back with my arms raised above my head on the bedding. I tuck my knees up to my chest slightly and let my ankles cross, gazing up at Alex with desire in my eyes, “Like it enough to take it? You going to take me?” I tease.

He lifts off his shirt and lets his jeans drop to the polished floorboards. The warm candlelight caresses his naked form. He looks heavenly as he prowls onto the bed and looms over me like a beautiful phantom. His long hair hangs around his face and brushes my cheek as Alex leans down to whisper in my ear.

“I want to tie you up by your wrists, Gray. I know how you love to touch me. Always scratching up my back,” I back myself up against the pillows as he crawls forward onto the bed. He moves like a cheetah and I’m completely captivated, “Alway leaving hickies all over my chest. Scratches on my sides. You get fuckin’ feral. That’s why I need to tie you up.” There he goes again teasing me till I can barely think. His mouth is so close to mine right now and all I want is for him to fucking devour me with kisses. I have to keep this up. I need to be calm.

“Well, you’re in luck. Check the bottom drawer.” Alex kisses the corner of my lips before leaning over to reach into the drawer. He retrieves a pair of handcuffs. I bought them today while I ran errands and waited for the lamb roast to cook. The padding on the inner edge is velvety whilst the outer side is covered with bright red faux fur. Alex runs the fur against his cheek just to feel it before he gives me a hungry stare. 

  
  
“These will definitely do.” His voice sounds darker now. More focused. More sensual. There’s a certain huskiness about it that makes my knees weak as Alex takes my wrists so gently, locks one in, loops the chain around a bar of our bedframe and then locks my other wrist in, whispering with care “Not too tight?”

“No, just right.” Having my hands restrained adds a new layer of erotic tension. I so fucking badly wanna touch him. Wanna feel his body up, down and all over. Alex takes me by my hips and guides me to roll over face down on my knees, my wrists crossing and my back arching as I present my arse for him.

“Want me to go easy on you, baby? I can be good and gentle for you.” He massages the mounds of my arse so kindly that it lulls me into a false sense of security long enough for Alex to slap the side of my thigh. It makes me gasp and my body jolts at the contact. Glancing back at him, I see the devilish smirk on his lips.

“Pretty please be kind to me, baby.”

“Oh, I’ll be kind,” He leans down and holds my arse, dragging down my lace underwear before spreading me so I’m on full display for him to take “I’m going to treat you like an angel, Gray.” My breathing hitches and I whine when finally, I feel his tongue tracing the inner edges of my hole, softly prodding and teasing the ring of muscle. Already, my face is burning up as I moan into the pillow supporting my elbows. He presses the tip of his tongue in slowly to relax me before continuing to lap softly at the sensitive skin. I can hardly help myself and push my arse back, my whole body giving a twitch as he licks into me deep. At last I feel relaxed enough.

“A-Alex, I think I’m ready for you,” I pant, chewing my lip in anticipation. With that, Alex helps me roll over onto my back and at last, I can once again see him in all his elegant glory “Take what’s yours.”

Alex peels my thong entirely off before positioning himself between my quivering thighs. My cock lays flush against my lower stomach as I gaze up at him. I find myself giving a throaty moan when he inches all the way in, shifting his weight forward to push deep. 

“Fuck, babe. Fuck, you’re so big,” He loves it when I praise him. I like to make him feel like a God. Everyone wins. Once he knows I’m settled and relaxed, that’s when it begins. Alex pulls most of the way back out then inches back in. He does this a few more times before properly starting to thrust and Jesus Christ, he knows his shit. His thrusts are slow, powerful and frankly, almost dizzying especially when he speeds up. 

The peaceful ambiance is punctuated by the firm, repetitive slap of skin impacting skin and wanton moaning. We utter each other’s name like desperate prayers, devoting our bodies to one another. The room feels hot as our sounds begin to escalate. I can’t stop myself from letting my hips buck. If my hands were free, I’d be digging my nails into Alex’s lower back and pulling him closer, deeper.

“Ha-Harder. Faster. All of it. J-Just don’t stop! Don’t stop, baby!” I have no idea how Alex has the ability to multitask like he does but as he thrusts to a steady rhythm, he teases my nipple with his tongue, sending additional shivers through my body. 

“I won’t stop,” he murmurs breathily, “Not till you’re shaking.” He spanks my buttock and digs his nails in for a moment, growling gruffly against the side of my neck.

  
“Alex! Alex, sh-shhh _ hhit.  _ Oh fuck! FUCK!”

That’s it. I can’t take any more. Every movement drowns me in pleasure and I tremble like a fucking leaf. Alex is the first to lose it, the motion of his hips speeding up erratically and making me whine like a whore. His whore. His elevated passion forces me over the edge as well. I feel a wet patch form between us as I hit my climax, crying out at the top of my lungs as he fucks into me till his body gives in and his arms give out. My orgasm is earth-shattering. Breathless moans tumble from my lips and it takes forever to come back down from this high. My hips twitch lightly every few seconds or so as the pleasure rings through my body like the toll of a grandfather clock. We lay there trying desperately to recover from the onslaught of euphoria.

Alex lays draped on me like a cat in the sunniest spot in the house. I take great comfort in pressing loving kisses to his forehead while I murmur.

“You better not fall asleep on me when I’m all cuffed up like this, beautiful.”

“Mmm..” he groans.

  
“Pretty, pretty please uncuff me, babe?”

“If I must. You do look rather wonderful that way though.” Alex winks wearily before he carefully pulls out and reaches over to the bedside table, taking the small key in there and releasing me from my restraints. The first thing I do now that I have my hands back is rub his chest, letting my palms rest on his shoulders.

“So was that an alright present for our two month?” My boyfriend grabs a tissue and relocates himself beside me on the bed, wiping my midriff clean and tossing the tissue into the waste bin. The covers are dragged up over us to keep our bare forms warm even once our highs are done.

“More than alright. Spectacular. I don’t know if I’ve ever come that hard.” Alex is always quick to get cuddly with me after we do it, bringing my body closer to his in the most comforting way. His protective nature shines through in moments like these.

“I’m glad. I promise I’ll make you come harder than that one day.” It doesn’t hurt to be a little mischievous sometimes. I feel kisses crawling up my neck and I roll over onto my side, nestling up to Alex and resting my head on his chest. We’re going to sleep like the dead tonight. I know I’ll dream of him.

_ -fin- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this was alright. I'm still new to writing smut and a touch nervous about it too. Next prompt is shopping together!


	20. Shopping Together (Dalex) Slightly NSFW in spots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello frends. Finally got this one wrapped up. Been a couple days coming but the chapter is done and there'll be more on the way. This one's set in 1994 in a world where the band doesn't exist yet (bending reality a lil). Have fun with it. Feedback is always appreciated

**Dalex**

**POV Alex**

As I step out of my dark blue Volkswagen Pointer, I unfurl my umbrella and let it open up to protect me from this ever-inclement weather. This Friday evening feels like any other I’ve ever had. Of course, it’s drizzling down with autumn rain and the air feels cleaner than usual. The breeze is brisk, biting the skin I have exposed. I hear the wailing of a far off ambulance which is soon after followed by the howls of a police car’s siren. There’s always someone stuck in an emergency in this city. Aside from these additional factors, it is a Friday like any other. The end of the week is nigh. Over the next few days, I’ll either hibernate in my room with my bass or I’ll be out on the town looking for the best time that I can rustle up. I hit the bars, the clubs. Anywhere that people my age still have a sense of fun.

But this evening, I prepare for all that. I shut my umbrella and shake it off before I enter the supermarket. As soon as I step inside, I smell the dank, cold scent of refrigeration and cheap produce. This grocer isn’t exactly all that flash but given my budget, it might as well be the Ritz Carlton. I see the familiar faces. Mary at the checkout. She gazes off into the distance as the soulless beep of the scanner abruptly pierces the ambience of the humming fridges. In any other light, she would look pale but in the fluorescent lights of the shop, she looks like she’s on death’s door. I see Walt, the manager, pacing about with a clipboard tucked cloes to his chest and a pen behind his ear as he takes note of how much stock is left. He’s had three heart attacks since he took on this job. One while I was here. The locals figure he must be indestructible. 

I wrangle a trolley from the bay and push on my way, ambling through the aisles as I browse for whatever items are scribbled on my inner wrist. I forgot to buy paper and post-it notes last week so my skin has been my to-do list. However, when I turn the corner of a new aisle and glance up from the scrawled notes on my wrist, I’m taken aback to see a familiar face. A rather attractive one at that too. A clean shaven, olive-skinned blonde wears a brown, fleece-lined corduroy jacket over a tight grey t-shirt with a navy blue trim around the neckline. His denim jeans seem a touch too large but he makes them work on his slim figure. As he steps away from his trolley to reach up for a can of beans, I see his t-shirt ride up and show off a strip of skin around his hips. He’s shorter than me. His face is sweet and dreamy with his blue eyes and perked up nose. He’s so pretty it almost makes me feel nervous.

I think I know him from somewhere and I figure this fact must be true because as I start to get closer, he registers me and tilts his head, smiling politely before giving a small wave. Fuck. He knows me. 

As we meet parallel to each other, this attractive young man smiles more and I know he’s about to start up a conversation with me so I slow down to a halt, clutching the handle of my trolley as I look to him and try to assume an air of nonchalance.

“Long time no see. You shop here too? Or is it just a one-off?” He shoots me a conspiratorial wink and I’m starting to wonder how I must have met this Adonis. He looks as though he just realised he forgot something, “Oh, Damon, by the way.” He points to himself. I still can’t quite place him.

“Good to see you again. Yeah, I tend to scavenge around here. Guessing you’re a regular too?” I drawl, trying to search the files of my mind for a scrap of more information on him.

“I shop around a little. Depends on what I’m looking to find,” he licks the corner of his lips absentmindedly as he glances around, “So how’s life treating you? I haven’t seen you around this area before.”

“It’s good, yeah.” I don’t know what he knows of me. What do I even update him on?

“Still playing bass and all that?” he prompts. I nod definitively and offer a pleased smile.

“Yeah, still hackin’ away at it. Trying to find a band to join actually. If you know anyone that needs a bassist, shoot me a message.”

“Oh, I know plenty of musos that could help you out. And I’ve got your number. You’ve got mine. We should keep in touch.” He looks me up and down on that last word. Touch. I definitely have a stronger connection with him than my brain is allowing me to remember. He lays his hand on his chest and rubs his collarbone as he gazes up at me. That action feels familiar.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to message you when I get home.” The young man glances over at my shopping trolley and tilts his head as he notices the items I’ve acquired.

“Crackers, dip, cola, Smirnoff, condoms, bacon, eggs and milk. Looks like someone’s got a good weekend planned.” There’s something about the confidence on his face as he raises a brow at me that just makes my head swim. 

“Well, you know. Got to plan ahead for some weekends.” I mutter, slightly embarrassed. He looks up at me with a cheeky glint in his eyes as he ever-so gently pries.

“You seeing anyone tomorrow night?” 

I shake my head.

“Night after?”

I pause almost as though I’m unsure if I’ll be free (Got to keep up the chase, right?) but I know very well that I haven’t got a date this weekend as I gently squeeze the handle of my trolley a couple times. I shake my head once again.

“Well, how about you and I get together some time? Maybe I could come over to your place again? I’ll bring some nice wine, some CD’s. We could get to know each other a little better,” He pauses to think about what he’s going to say next and then locks eyes with me, “Maybe we could actually use your couch for sitting this time?” He chuckles softly. I’m struck with memories upon hearing that sentence. Of course. Damon, the devastatingly pretty lad I met at that nightclub, Trade. I can place him now as I recall mental images of leading him to my couch and the two of us ripping each other’s clothes off. We must have been completely smashed that night. He just happens to have a better memory of it than I do. Needless to say, I feel my cheeks tinge with pink at that statement.

“I’d love to have you over again. You’re excellent company,” I smirk.

“You’re too kind to me.” 

I’m feeling far more confident now that I remember him. Damon. I remember him straddling my lap. I can practically hear him panting in my ear, smell the sweet floral scents of his hair. My fingertips are graced by the heat beneath his skin. Our bodies battle in the most delicious way, _his_ body swaying in a gorgeous, fluid motion as he lets his eyes slip shut and his head tip back. His throat and clavicle glisten with perspiration in the warm light as my memories fall into slow motion and I get so deeply lost in movement of his hips. He feels like Heaven. He’s riding me like his life depends on it as he moans my name. “Alex… Alex… _Alex.”_

“So I’ll drop in around 8:30 tomorrow night, Alex?”

  
He startles me out of my trance and I quickly put on a smile as though I wasn’t just distracted by my daydreams of nailing this beautiful nearly-stranger.

“O-Of course. Yeah, that’d be a fine time. Maybe I could cook something up? What do you usually like?”

“Oh, I’m not picky. Just nothing with meat,” he smiles an awkward smile before he whispers, “Vegetarian, you know?” 

“I am more than happy to cater to your appetite.” I didn’t mean to word that sentence that way but if it’s something he likes, then I’m not going to say it was an accident. Thankfully, Damon gives me a knowing smile and subtly licks his bottom lip as though he doesn’t realise what he’s doing. He reaches out to me and holds my upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze before he leans in and kisses my jawline.

“Then I _really_ look forward to seeing you again.” Just like that, he goes on his merry way, pushing his trolley ahead of him down the aisle and disappearing around the corner I entered from.

  
  


This weekend just got a lot more interesting.

_-fin-_


	21. Buying Flowers For The Other (Davham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW (mentions/descriptions of depression. 
> 
> Evening, frends. Here's the latest chapter in this challenge. I apologise for the wait between uploads. I've been having a bit of a time with my health recently but it's nothing major. 
> 
> Felt it was high time for another Davham fic. I have a soft spot for this pairing. Very wholesome and caring.
> 
> Anywayz, this chapter is set in 1993. New on the pop scene (see what I did there?) and new to fame.

**Davlex**

**POV Dave**

I don’t think Graham’s happy. He hasn’t seemed like himself in quite a while since things really started to blow up. I don’t think fame and fortune was ever really something he’d aimed for. Sometimes when I’m at my drum kit and I see him from behind, there’s a certain slump to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. His playing is still as precise as ever but there’s just something about his movements that feel like he couldn’t give less of a shit if he got the right tune. It just so happens that he nails it.

These are the things you notice when you love someone from afar. Because you can’t share your feelings in plain, simple words, you feel forced to just observe them. We expose quite a lot of how we feel through our body language.

It got worse once we got home from touring. Even though he was morose at concerts and seemed to be completely swept away in his own world, this sense of despair crept into his every day life as well. I don’t think he’s handling the lack of privacy well. Nor does he seem to like being known by the mainstream media. Others of us have taken to it like ducks to water but Graham, not so much.

Today, he’s spent every hour in bed since he woke up. He’s not even reading. Just laying there drifting between sleep and consciousness on a half-hourly basis. I offered to bring him food but he said he wasn’t hungry. I made some anyway (just a tomato and cheese toastie) but he hasn’t even picked at the crusts. It weighs on my mind terribly when he falls into funks like this. It’s usually when winter comes and the weather gets horrid but it seems like these spells of depression have become more frequent. I’m glad he and I are rooming together so I can keep an eye on him but at the same time, wishing I could tell him how I feel makes all of this ache just so much more. I see him suffering and I just wish I could tell him exactly how I feel so that I could care for him with my whole heart, but instead, I’m relegated to knocking on his door every so often and checking in. I can’t hold him. I can’t pet his hair till he falls asleep.

As I leave the grocery shop, I wander past a display rack full to the brim with bouquets. It obviously belongs to the florist shop just behind it. There’s something about the flowers, maybe the colours or the scents, that entices me to wander in and have a look around at their selection. As I wander through, I see bundles of peonies, flourishing ferns dangling from hanging pots and a myriad of roses. No expense was spared in the layout of this shop because nearly every wall has a display of ivy attached to cover up the old red brick. I feel as though I’ve wandered into a lost pocket of the Hanging Hardens of Babylon. 

“Wot yer lookin’ for, son?” I hear a sweet, grandmotherly voice from behind me. I turn to see a small, plump old woman with rosy cheeks and a pleasant demeanour sitting behind the front desk. I tuck my hands into my pockets as I shrug, glancing around.

“I was just browsing but,” he’s the first thing on my mind. I must have wandered into this shop for a reason, “But I was wondering just now if I could get a bouquet made up custom? Do you do that whole ‘Say it with flowers’ type thing here?”

“Well, of course dear. Have this. It’ll show you all the meanings you need.” She slides a pamphlet from a stack across the table that lists all the different kinds of flowers and what message they convey. She passes me a felt tip pen.I browse through them, chewing my bottom lip as I try to find the right three or four to include in this arrangement.

Pink Camellias. Longing for you.

Red Carnations. My heart aches for you.

Yarrow. Good health.

White violets. Let’s take a chance.

I circle those four on the pamphlet and slide it back across the counter to her.

“Just a posy of these ones, please. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Just something I can take home to this girl I quite like.” It always feels like I’m betraying myself whenever I cover that side of myself up.

“No problem, deary. I’ll fix yeh up somethin’ real tidy and sweet. That’ll just be thirteen pounds, love.” I nod to and get the money out for her, waiting patiently for my change and smiling politely before I head out of the store to wait on the bench outside. As I gaze up at the leaden sky, it’s obvious that rain is seconds away. Thank God I don’t have to walk home in this tempest. 

I spend a short while people-watching, trying not to stare at anyone for too long in case they notice my odd gaze. Graham would probably be drawing people if he were sitting here beside me. I love that about him. He sees the art in everything. Good Lord, I really have got it bad for him.

I’m pulled from my daydreams by the jingling of the bell above the shop’s front door and I smile gratefully to see the small, old woman holding the posy out to me.

“Thank you so much. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“No worries, deary. Be sure to beat this storm. Home’s the best place to be right now.” She speaks with so much care that I’m almost taken aback by the kindness. I give her a few extra thank yous before I’m off on my way, bouquet in hand and grocery bags looped on my other arm.

I catch the bus back to my neck of the woods and rest my head back against my seat, keeping the bouquet close but not suffocating it in my hold. God, I do truly hope Graham’s out of bed by the time I get back home. Just to see any progress in him would mean everything. I hop off at my stop and wander up the street in the direction home. By this point, the rain is already pouring down. Fortunately, I always tend to walk faster on the home stretch. My keys jangle as I unlock the front door to our flat, shutting it after and sighing softly as I call out into the lounge room, hanging up my coat. 

“Graham? Mate, I’m home.” Relief hits when I hear a faint grumble from the vicinity of the couch and Graham sits up, rubbing the back of his neck and running his fingers through his hair.

“I was wondering where you’d gone to. You didn’t say before you left,” he mumbles. Graham turns around on the couch and before I can hide the bouquet behind my back, his brows raise and he manages a small smile, “Where’d you get those?” 

I’m completely caught off guard. This was a terrible idea. I should have just kept walking past that flower shop. My face must be turning pink as I speak.

“W-Well, I thought you might appreciate a pop of colour in your room. It’s always so dark in there. You need something to brighten it up a little. So I got this random one from the supermarket. I saw it by the confectionaries so I thought I might grab it on my way out.” I walk over with trepidation before I hand the posy to Graham. He gazes fondly at the arrangement and smiles once again. This has already been a massive success. Just to see him smile is a massive relief, no matter how wistful the look in his eyes.

“That was very thoughtful of you, Dave. You always have your wonderful little ways of making life better. I didn’t know the supermarket had bouquets quite this nice. They’re…” His mind wanders and he gives a gentle sniff of a chuckle. “They’re absolutely stunning. You’ve always looked out for me like this. Little ways of making life better. Come over. Lemme show you something.” He pats the arm of the couch, beckoning me to sit. I find my seat there and stare with him at the bundled up flora. He holds the stem of the yarrow and looks to me for a moment. His voice is slightly husky from disuse but his sweet, demure tone is still there as always. Breathtakingly polite and soft-spoken.

“You see this one?”

I nod and point to it briefly. “Yeah, it’s yarrow.”

“That’s right. You’re on the ball,” Graham pats my forearm and I try to remain unphased, “It means that you wish someone good health or to get well soon. Did you know that?”

I shake my head. If I know that, then I know the meanings of the others. As far as Graham is concerned, I know nothing.

“Well, what a lovely flower anyway. A very sweet sentiment. And white violets, they’re interesting. Something about taking a risk or trying something new. Symbolic of beginnings. Another lovely one.”

I need to continue feigning ignorance if I’m to get through today without accidentally issuing a grand confession of love via a handful of foliage. The natural progression is to the more colourful members of this arrangement. I support the head of a blush pink camellia and lock eyes with Graham for just a short moment.

“So what do these ones mean then if the violets are risk taking and the yarrow means good health?”

Graham takes a moment, nibbling his bottom lip as he flips through the rolodex in his mind.

“I believe they mean yearning in a romantic way. Which is an interesting one to pair with good health and taking chances.” He furrows his brows faintly as he stares at the bouquet. I’m almost too nervous to continue with my questioning but I have to keep up this charade.

“And what about the carnations?” I speak my words almost softly.

“Much the same as the camellias only there’s a sense of desperation about it. A deep aching.” There’s something about the way that Graham tilts his head and quirks up his brows a tiny bit. He looks sympathetic. Understanding. “This is a  _ very  _ beautiful posy. Thank you, Dave. It’ll look wonderful in my room. I might try painting it when I… Gord, whenever my motivation comes back, I guess.”

I feel comfortable enough to pat his shoulder as I speak my encouragement.

  
“It’ll come back, Gray. Things will be better,” I give one more affirmative pat before I take my hand away and look elsewhere, sighing restlessly, “How would you like a cuppa?”

Graham remains gazing at the flowers, his nimble fingertips tracing the edges of a camellia’s petals. He glances up at me with a start, his smile somewhat automatic and hopeful. Something’s changed in his demeanour. “What was that?”

“Cuppa?”

“I’d give anything for a cuppa. Got an Earl Grey?”

“You know it.” I chuckle. The kitchen is a small pocket off of the lounge room and dining area, one where you can still see the TV from the breakfast bar. As I set up our cups of tea, I feel a deep calm to know that I managed to get away without any major embarrassments or wounds to the heart. I hear something from behind me in the lounge room and I furrow my brows. Giggling. It’s not from the TV. It’s Graham. He… He sounds so happy. I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of him resting the bouquet aside on the coffee table.

“What’s got you giggling?” I call out with curiosity.

“Oh nothing.” He answers with a teasing kind of coyness in his voice. Little do I see that he’s holding the business card of a certain London florist.

“Whatever you say, Gray.”

There’s silence for a while longer as the kettle begins to breathily whistle. My world is calm and the tea smells beautiful as I pour the boiling water into both cups.  


“Dave?” Graham calls out to me. My eyes are on the cups as I respond. Can't lose focus or I'll scald myself.  


“Yes?”

“How was Gladys?”

**_Fuck._ **

_ -fin- _


	22. Competing Part 1 (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello frends. This chapter is going to be split up into two parts cause it takes place over a few days and I want to be able to go into more detail with it. It's set in late 1991 and there's plenty of romantic/sexual tension to go around ahaha. Have fun and enjoy.

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

  
  


"Fifty pounds."

"What?"

I look up from my paperback book and glance over at Alex where he lays on the couch. His eyes are fixed on the TV but I know he just said something. We’ve been lying about here for most of the day since the weather’s been absolutely miserable. The view outside the living room window is dull, plain and damn near monochromatic.

"Fifty pounds, Day. I wanna make a bet." He glances over at me with a look that exudes pure confidence that he'll win this unspecified bet.

"What's the proposal then?" I sit up slightly in the armchair and rub the back of my neck, letting my hand hang there for a moment as I massage a knot in it.

"Well, I've found out something that I think you might be interested to know about our dear roommate."

"Dave?"

"Try again."

"Graham?"

"No, the rug in the closet under the stairs. Yes, Graham."

"Well, out with it. What about him?"

Alex chuckles. I think he likes the power of knowing something I don't know. Cheeky fucking bastard. He untucks one hand from his folded arms and gestures lazily with it the way he does when he smokes in the back garden with friends. It makes him look careless, cool.

"I think he fancies us both." My eyes widen for a split second to receive this news but I feel the need to play it cool. Alex's bet has something to do with this so I need to be one step ahead of him or at least appear to be.

"Yeah, and what about it?" Reaching over to grab my mug, I take a sip of hot tea from it while I wait for Alex's answer.

"I thought maybe, just maybe we could have a little fun. Bit of mischief, you know? My proposal is this," He sits up on the couch and clasps his fingers together, glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before he whispers to me, "The first one of us to shag Graham before the end of the week gets fifty pounds. And I mean a proper shag, Day. Charm him into your bed and you win the cash. But if I beat you, you owe me the fifty."

"It's tempting but I don't want him to feel used or anything." Chewing my inner lip, I think these terms over, debating with myself.

"Don't you worry about that. I know Graham's keen on me and he's got the hots for you for sure. I don't think he'll know how to act getting all that attention. He'd love it." Alex has a glint in his eye that can mean nothing other than that he's up to no good. After chewing my lip and deliberating for a minute, I reach over and hold out my hand. We consolidate the deal with a firm handshake. I do pretty well with members of the opposite sex and the same sex but I’ve never quite been able to figure out Graham. Needless to say, I’ve got a challenge ahead of me.

“May the best man win, hey?”

“You can say that again.” I chuckle quietly to myself. I hear the faint rustle of a newspaper being flipped through and glance over to the kitchen table, just able to see it through the door.

“Dave, you want any part in the bet?” I call out.

“Keep me out of it.” He responds, not even looking up from his paper. Dave’s beyond all this kind of nonsense.

The next couple of days, I try to keep my flirtation steady and consistent. The bet started on Sunday. I went out for drinks and a show with Graham on Monday night. It was a local grunge band that no one’s heard of but I know he likes that kind of music so it felt like a good fit. We got pretty tipsy throughout the show and kissed a few times. They were the kinds of kisses you give your friends when you’re both three sheets into the wind and nothing matters. Later in the night as we staggered back home, we’d stop by alleys and kiss more. This time, the kisses felt real. It wasn’t quite frantic or wanton but the way he didn’t even hesitate to share his affection with me was breathtaking. Graham tends to be generous with his affection.The guys and I have plenty of relaxed nights where I’ll lay on the couch and half the time, Graham will end up either with his arm around my shoulders or resting his head on my thigh. He and I have always been close.

On Tuesday night, I strike out. Alex snagged Graham for dinner and a movie that evening and left Dave and I to work on songs together back at the house. By no means a waste of time but of course I was losing time to make progress on this bet. Even as I drape myself around my guitar and strum away, a faint scowl lingers on my face.

“Damon?” Dave pipes up.

“Yeah?” I glance up from my pages of notes and lyrics. Dave reaches over and presses his thumb to my forehead, rubbing at the spot where my brows are tensed and form a crease.

“You’re thinking about that silly bet, aren’t you?”

“What else would it be?” I mutter, shaking my head as I puff out a sigh. My thumb and forefinger twiddle against the cool metal strings, “I’m pissed off. They’re out together. They’re off at a _movie_. That’s the perfect spot for a date. I bet Alex has his tongue down Graham’s throat and his hands in his jocks already.” 

I push my hair back and ruffle it up. I crave cigarettes when I’m angry. I feel Dave’s eyes on me so I glance over and furrow my brows as if to say “ _What are you lookin’ at?_ ”

“It’s odd. I mean yesterday you were tellin’ me that you and Gray were kissing in the alley near this place. Why are you so worried? It’s clear he’s attracted to you. He’s always all over you.” Dave purses his lips tightly with confusion.

“I don’t know. I just wonder if Alex is better at sweeping him off his feet than I am?” I’m becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

“Sweeping him off his feet? I thought this was about having it off with him?” He continues to scrutinize me as I brush my thumb against the bridge of the guitar. I hate this. I hate the way he can see right through me. I avert my gaze from Dave, “This isn’t just about the fifty pounds, Damon. I think you know that.”

“Dave, shut up.” My face feels hot as I become defensive.

  
“Oh come on. It’s obvious that you fancy him more than you’re letting on. Alex just made this bet cause he knows he can get in your head about it.” He gives my shoulder a small shove and I stand up fast. I can’t take the contact right now.

“Fuck off, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I lean the guitar against the wall and pace about a couple of times, feeling overwhelmed as I rub my face, “I mean what if Alex leads him on? Graham’s sensitive. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Firstly, language. Secondly, you probably should have thought about that before you agreed to the bet, Day.”

“I fucking know.”

“Language. Besides, it’s all silly anyways. Just be real with Graham. If he likes you the way you like him, it shouldn’t matter what Alex gets up to.”

Dave’s right. He’s always right. Bastard always knows exactly what to say and how to guide me in moments like these.

I have better luck on Wednesday night when Graham secludes himself in his room to paint. I ascend the staircase to his bedroom door with two cups of tea in hand, wisps of steam rising from each as I gently bump the door three times with the toe of my shoe.

“Graham, I brought cuppas.” I call out to him, gazing up at a spot of paint I can see smeared on the outside of the door. I’m perplexed by how it got there. From inside the room I hear a gentle clambering and then footsteps before the door opens for me. There he is, his sweet brown eyes lighting up as he smiles. A smile from Graham is a blessing.

“How did you know I wanted a cuppa?” I hand him his mug of tea handle first and he takes a moment to smell it before taking a careful sip, sighing with delight, “That hits the spot.”

“Dunno. Just thought it’d be good right about now. Could I come in? See what you’re working on?” He nods after another sip of tea and steps aside to let me in. I love hanging out up here and just watching Graham paint. He goes to such a focused place as though there’s an unbreakable bond between himself and the canvas. As I venture into the room, I see the easel and drop sheet he’s got set up in the middle of the room like the altar at which he prays to the gods of art. 

“So it’s a bit of an abstract piece,” Graham folds his arms but keeps one up so he can rub his chin while he explains, “I’ve gotten a bit tired of trying to represent actual things in my work so I feel like abstract is a pleasing escape from that kind of… Thing?”

He glances from me to the canvas a couple of times before sitting down on his bed as I study the painting. The canvas is splash with dark blues, streaks of a vibrant red and a splatter of white in one corner. Smaller details have been painted in black.

“It’s not like the rest of your work. You’ve got incredible range, Graham. It’s like you just nail everything you try.” He blushes in response and looks away from me as he giggles. Compliments fluster Graham.

“Oh, you’re just saying that.”

“Why would I just say that? I mean it.”

“Well, cause y-...” he loses track of his words as he looks up at me. I raise a brow at Graham, “Cause you’re so-... You’re just like that. You always encourage me. Even when you say something’s shit, you’re kind about it. You’re great.”

He’s made me feel rather bashful with just that little statement. Taking a seat beside him on the bed and tucking my legs up criss-cross, I pat his upper back. This elicits a small, pleased smile. His lips are plush and upturned at the corners.

“You deserve it. You should know that what you do is really quite brilliant.”

“Thank you, Dames.” We share a moment of mutual understanding. I see him and he sees me. My heart gets all stupid when he drags his gaze from my eyes to my lips even for just a split second. He glances there again before pressing his lips together and relaxing them. I murmur as softly as I possibly can.

“You can kiss me if you want to. Not like we haven’t before. Always nice to share a bit of affection between friends.”

“I know. Just feels different.” he mutters. There’s so much going on in that mind of Graham’s.

“What do you mean?” I keep my eyes locked with his as I feel Graham’s palm rest on the back of my neck, absentmindedly fidgeting with the baby hairs and tracing the neckline of my t-shirt.

“I’m not sure. I’m working that out. Bear with me. Please…” He shifts closer and rests his thigh over mine, leaning against my upper arm and nestling the top of his head against my cheek. I wrap my arm around Graham’s lower back. From the other side of the wall, I can hear Alex in his room practising on the bass. He’s damn good but he’s also the last thing I want to hear right now as I rub the small of Graham’s back. He lets his forehead rest against my cheek as he plants a kiss there that’s followed quickly thereafter by a kiss to the corner of my lips. I turn my head to him. We share just about three more soft pecks, the last lingering for longer than the others. The room is so quiet that I can hear him breathe. We share more of these sweet gestures, our lips barely separating between them as I set my mug aside and hold onto the thigh that overlaps my own, lightly pressing my nails at the seam of Graham’s jeans. His breathing hitches for a moment and I nearly lose my mind to hear him let out a shaky sigh of surprise.

  
I’m going to tease him.

I squeeze his inner thigh firmly as I graze his bottom lip lightly with my teeth. Pulling away from the kiss, I gaze deeply into Graham’s raw umber eyes. We’ve made a vital connection.

“You should get back to painting, shouldn’t you?” I murmur, knowing full well that he’d probably love to just roll about on this bed and snog all night. I’d sell my soul to do the same.

“Uhhuh.” Graham mutters. He seems almost blissfully spaced out. I can’t help but giggle at how precious he is.

“I’ll leave you to it, Gray.” I adjourn to my room just next door, taking my cup of tea with me and feeling almost giddy with joy to know that I got to have that moment with Graham. My chances are looking good.

_-to be continued in part 2-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch you at part 2 xoxo


	23. Competing Part 2 (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again frends. Here we are with part two. I'm pretty sure this particular storyline will wrap up in the third part so be sure to watch this space. With that said, have fun with this new chapter. Set in the same week as the previous chapter.

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

  
  


Thursday doesn’t quite turn out the way I had hoped it would initially. The four of us go out for dinner on the town with our management, having reserved a booth for the evening. It’s a simple matter of placement. I end up opposite Graham but Alex is right beside him and keeps him captivated and engaged the whole night. I don’t stand a chance with the way that Alex shows him magic tricks with napkins and whispers dirty jokes in his ear behind a cupped hand. At one point, Alex even has the audacity to do the old “comparing hand sizes” bit with him. Alex is one of my closest friends but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t know how to push my buttons sometimes.

Of course as this goes on, the more bitter I become and the harder it gets to try and engage with Graham. I feel sawn off at the knees with every attempt I make to even just flirt with him. Frustration tends to grow in me exponentially. I’m still able to chat with Dave and the rest of the gang but this night feels like a write-off as goes my efforts to win over Graham. It’s not even about the money for me really. It just feels like a good excuse to finally let him know how I feel- How I’ve always felt. 

We leave that restaurant after dessert and make our way a few blocks down to the nearest club. I don’t particularly want to drink tonight but the others do so I go along anyway. The whole night just leaves me tipsy, jaded and morose. I’m not even jealous of Alex. I more so resent myself for not having the guts to be telling Graham my feelings and my intentions. From the bar with my fourth gin & tonic cradled in my hand, I watch him dance in silhouette as the lights by the dance floor strobe. He’s so bright. So full of life. His world is alive with colour and music and beauty. I can only pray that he’ll let me be part of that world. I down two more shots.I don’t leave the club till I know Graham is heading out too. At the very least, I want to be with him for the trip back home. The others drop off one by one. Alex and Dave take a cab home. I’m lucky enough to find myself out on the curb with Graham as he sways slightly from foot to foot. The rain sprinkles down lightly and causes the streets to glimmer with the neon lights of the surrounding signage. As the rain pours down more heavily, I hold Graham’s upper arm to support him as we seek shelter beneath the nearest bus stop, cool rain soaking my hair and running down the back of my neck.

“Bloody hell, it’s raining cats and dogs innit?” I probably speak a little too loud due to my intoxication.

“You can say that again.” he mutters, teeth chattering slightly from the cold. I’m a bastard. I have to do it.

“Well, if you insist. Bloody he-...” Graham giggles as he playfully clasps his hand across my mouth. My first instinct is to poke my tongue against his palm. He retracts immediately in a fit of laughter as he wipes my saliva off onto his pant leg.

“You’re cheeky, Dames. You’re too cheeky for your own good.”

“The way you say that makes it sound more like a compliment to me,” I can see him shuddering in the dim, blue glow of the nearest neon sign. I slip off my windcheater and pass it to him, “Here. You need this more than I do.”

He giggles with drink-induced delirium as he slips the jacket on and leans against me, letting his head loll onto my shoulder. Graham’s speaking is faintly slurred. Mine probably is too but I’m too far gone by now to really know for sure.

“There you go again, blondie. Looking out for me. No one does it like you do. I say it all the time to everyone but you’re just so  _ good _ . Like some people go through life and they’re decent. They don’t kill anyone or rob anyone and that’s their baseline but you’re just so caring, Dames. I thought you should know if you don’t already. I promise that’s not the tequila speaking for me. I mean that. I m-... I really mean that,” Graham takes a break from telling me all this and reaches across me to hold onto my side as he nestles his head under my chin. I can smell his cologne. He splashed on quite a bit tonight. He mutters as I keep an eye out for taxi cabs, “Day, you make me feel like I’m someone.”

Graham’s words speak to me in a new way tonight. They leave me almost stunned at the clarity I feel right now.

“You  _ are  _ someone. You’re an incredible, magnificent someone. Anyone who tells you otherwise can fuggin’ sod off. You poke ‘em right in the chest and say to them that you are Graham and that you are someone worth respecting. Fuck anyone who puts you down. Not literally but like you know what I’m getting at.” I find myself snickering as well. The spirits have gone to my head as I keep my arm wrapped around Graham.

“Oh no, definitely not literally. I wouldn’t fuck someone who doesn’t respect me. I don’t mind getting treated a little rough but respect is-” He tuts as he points up in the air, “Tip top on my hierarchy of needs or whatever the fuck it is. The triangle thingy.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about,” I mumble, “Oh fuck!” I jump up when I see a taxi cab, grabbing a hold of Graham’s arm once more as I hail down our ride. We both clamber in, a drunken mess of limbs, and fasten our belts. I take the door seat behind the driver and Graham sits himself in the middle, immediately nestling up to me. God, I welcome this more than anything else the world has to offer. To be cosied up with Graham in the toasty backseat of a London cab while rain patters against the windows is as close as I can get to Heaven without dying. 

I have a brief chat with the driver of the cab. Graham and I don’t talk much on the trip home. I don’t think we really needed to. It all just makes sense, really. Every so often, I feel a kiss be pressed to my shoulder.

By the time we enter the flat, we’re sodden from running between bus stops to get back home. The two of us leave wet footprints all the way up the carpeted staircase and I’m quick to take off my dark olive jumper, hanging it up on the coat rack in my room to dry. I hear unstable footsteps and giggles but I’m surprised when Graham wanders his way into my room.

“Gray, wrong turn at Albuquerque. Your room’s the other way.” I chuckle with amusement as I take off my jeans and toss them onto the pile of clothes in the corner. It lies adjacent to the three foot stack of records also residing there.

“Oh no, I meant to be here. I wouldn’t mind hanging out for a bit. That’s if you don’t mind though. Don’t want to be an unwelcome visitor.” Graham leans in the doorway with my windcheater draped over his arm as well as his own jacket

“You’re always more than welcome here. Have a lie down if you’d like. I know I will.” I finally sit myself down on the edge of my bed and run my fingers back through my damp hair, running my palm to my nape as I shut my eyes and drift mentally. I feel weight shifting on the bed and glance back to see Graham laying himself down. He’s in his t-shirt and briefs, probably ready for sleep. His hair seems to curl up slightly when it’s wet; it makes Graham look like he just fell out of a baroque portrait. The only thing lighting my room aside from the lamp in the far corner by my records, is the beams of the moon. The carpet is tinted with dappled blue. This bed could be floating on a peaceful ocean if I let my imagination run wild.

I lay down beside him on my back and take a deep, meditative breath. Glancing over, I see Graham’s eyes are already shut. I take this time to study his soft, subtle, romantic features. Soon enough, mine drift slowly shut too. There’s a hand on my waist and a weary murmur from beside me.

“Roll onto your side…” Graham sounds like he’s half asleep judging by his croaky mumble but I comply, rolling over to face him, “ _ Nooo, _ away from me, Dames.”

I once again roll over but this time I face out into the room, the moonlight illuminating the area in front of me. With that, Graham slides closer and wraps his arms around my body from behind. The times we’ve cuddled over the years, I’ve always been the big spoon. Always. With this new position comes a strange new feeling. It’s like Graham’s protecting me. I feel this even more so when he fits our bodies together, his chest pressed to my back while his thighs tuck behind mine. I even feel the warmth of his steady breaths against my nape. God forbid his hands drift to my hips or my thighs.

“This is new.” I murmur.

“It is, isn’t it?” he concurs. One arm remains wrapped around my waist as Graham’s upper hand slides up and down the space between the bottom of my rib cage and the top of my hip. His fingers are lightly calloused. I know this because on the upward stroke of my waist, he accidentally pushes up my t-shirt and his hand slides under. Skin graces skin in an innocent way.

“New is good.” I utter absentmindedly.

“I like doing new things with you.” Graham mumbles out. We fall asleep on top of the blankets soon after. He holds me all night, every second right through to the morning.

Friday, I wake up in Graham’s arms. We’ve sunken into each other even more during the night. I feel practically joined to him. The neighbourhood around us is starting to wake up as driveways are filled with the sounds of cars engines being turned over. It’s the type of morning where exhaust pipes billow white clouds of vapour into the cold, crisp morning air. Wisps of steam float off of bowls of porridge with diced fruit. The light is golden as the sun rises. The world thrums with routine and everything is in its place.

Graham groans quietly against the back of my neck and it makes my heart feel like a slinky tumbling down a staircase. A yawn washes over me and my body shivers at the very end of it. Graham’s arms slightly squeeze my waist. He must be awake. I know this for sure when his pillowy lips grace the side of my neck. I’m not used to being the one receiving this kind of sweet affection. Normally I’m the one that leaves trails of kisses all over the bodies of those I’m with. Normally I initiate. This is a welcome change from the usual way of things.

“Please don’t go yet,” he mutters, “Let’s just stay like this for a while longer.” There’s a longing in his voice that I haven’t heard there before. He really needs me to be here right now.

“What’s happening here, Gray?” rolling over in Graham’s arms, I look up into his eyes. It’s tender. It’s intimate. I can feel his gentle breathing on my face, we’re that close.

“I don’t know but I don’t want it to stop.” He holds my gaze for quite a while. This feels significant, far more so than anything the bet could entail.

“Me neither.”

_ -to be continued in part three- _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick around for part 3 xoxo


	24. Competing Part 3 (Gramon) NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, here is part three of the Competing (Gramon) chapter. Had so much fun putting this storyline together and working to a longer format. This chapter is a fairly long one so buckle up. Still set in 1991 so enjoy peak bowlcut Graham and non-bowlcut Damon (think There's No Other Way US Promo video) here. If you've made it to this chapter, thanks for sticking through it and following the story to its end. As always, have fun with this one.
> 
> Also very very NSFW

**Gramon**

**POV Damon**

Friday goes on without a hitch. Graham and I linger in each other’s embrace till about nine thirty. We make breakfast together for ourselves, Dave and Alex. It all feels so natural and seamless. Every so often during the cooking process, I glance over at Alex as he sits at the kitchen table with a newspaper rolled half over in his hand. He reads it without much commitment to each page as he sips from his cup of tea. He seems unbothered by Graham and I working together here in the kitchen. He’s so unphased that it’s unnerving. Is he plotting something to steal Graham away from me in a grand gesture? What’s going on in that head?

However, I’m distracted from that line of thought as Graham brushes his fingertips across the small of my back in a fleeting gesture while I cook up the eggs, glancing over at him with a pleasantly surprised gaze. He leans back with his palms supporting him against the edge of the kitchen counter. The pose hunches his shoulders up as he stares out the kitchen window. Thin, round, gold-framed glasses perch on his face, framing his eyes like paintings. His soft features are picturesque. He’s handsome, pretty and everything in between.

Thankfully I notice that my mouth is hung subtly open in awe before he looks at me. He must know when I get caught up staring at him like this. God, I’m an embarrassment sometimes. I flip the eggs over for a short while before serving them on toast with a side of bacon and beans, plating four meals for the guys and I.

Graham and I spend most of the day lazing about in his room. I take my keyboard with me so that he and I can figure out tunes together. Normally, I like to use music to satirize. I mock pop culture, politics and society in general with what Dave describes as an acidic dry wit. When I’m with Graham, however, my mind is torn away from all that irks me about the world and I can focus on that which makes it beautiful. The way he strums and plucks at the strings of his guitar is thoughtful, precise and romantic. He hunches over the instrument, holding it close like a lover. Sometimes his eyes fall shut while he plays and I can watch him go to that peaceful place as I muse away on the keyboard. My favourite sound right now is that of electric organs. It fits like a glove with how gentle his tunes are. We spend most of the day like this either playing music together or painting.

The afternoon light crescendos to orange before making way for the evening’s watercolour hues of pink, purple and baby blue, the dark arriving to conclude the day. Graham turns on the light in his room. The red lampshade douses the room with a rosy pink tint. I prop my keyboard up against the wall before sitting back down on the bed, my knees close to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. My pinkies are locked together as I stare out at the now night sky. Warmth on the back of my neck. Graham’s fingertips. He sits behind me, slipping his fingers up into my undercut and rubbing my neck. I shut my eyes. Graham’s touch moves around to the front. His fingertips graze my Adam’s Apple lightly. 

He holds my throat. I feel his thumb running along my jawline. No pressure. Just touch. I trust him. I know for a fact he trusts me too. He shouldn’t. I agree to terrible bets that centre around making a trophy of the one boy I love.

I feel like the words are begging, _begging_ to escape my lips as Graham’s hand moves to my middle back and I rest my face between my knees. But which ones do I let slip? There's so much I haven't told him. Turning my head, I gaze over at the one I love. His soulful stare cuts right through me. I open my mouth for a moment to speak before closing it back up again. 

“What is it, Dames?” Graham gives a kind, encouraging smile. He’s taking care of me now. Oh, how the tables have turned. He speaks even more softly, “Go on. I’m listening to you.”

“I think I’m bisexual.” I mumble shyly. My dark haired Romeo responds with a caring giggle. He wants to laugh more but he’s too kind. I haven’t exactly made a secret of my escapades but I need him to know that this isn’t just something I do for a laugh. It’s part of me. He leans over and kisses my shoulder, rubbing my upper arm.

“I am too. But you probably already figured that out,” Graham’s tone softens even more to a low whisper. He massages my neck, working out the tension with a masterful hand. My head sways with the movement, “What made you come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. Just fancy men and women, I guess,” I peer over my shoulder at the young man behind me, “I fancy you for one.”

When Graham takes his hand away from the back of my neck, I find myself terrified. His eyes remain locked on me and he shuffles closer and envelopes me in his hold from behind. His arms feel like coming home and he lays his cheek against shoulder. My eyes water as my throat gets tight and tense.

“I just feel so much for you. I don’t e-even care if you don’t feel the same. I really just w-want for you to know that I love you.” The room is silent all but for the ambient hum of cars outside making their homeward commute. Crickets harmonize with the tune the engines set. Alex isn’t playing bass tonight. 

Graham anoints my nape with kisses, gracing my skin with the touch of his lips. This happens many, many times but as he goes on, he holds back less and less. Romance is a panther, slowly creeping into every kiss, every touch. That’s when Graham nestles his face into the joint of my neck and my shoulder and begins to suck on the tender skin, the sensation causing my eyes to roll back into my skull for a split second. He whispers breathily in my ear, holding onto my hips from behind.

“I love you too, Dames,” his soft bites tinge my neck with stains of harsh purple, “You’re the electricity in my bones.”

“I n-need a moment. I’ve gotta get something.” I stutter out, looking back over my shoulder at him. He slides his fingers into my hair, giving it a gentle tug before ruffling the mess. He knows how to give me something to think about.

“Go ahead.” He murmurs, a sly look in his eyes. As I get up to go for the door, Graham gives my arse a soft smack and looks away “innocently” when I glance back at him. This isn't just drunken kisses and fleeting glances anymore. He winks at me and I blush profusely as I leave the room and go just up the landing to Alex's door, knocking quietly but frantically. Eventually he opens up, headphones dangling around his neck as he stands there in a jumper and pajama shorts, his walkman in hand.

"You look like you just got jumped. What's up?" He seems amused by my disheveled state as he hooks a finger into the neckline of my t-shirt and drags it down to fully reveal the hickey that’s peeking out from under the fabric. He smirks, "Looks like you're getting places fast."

How the fuck is he so unphased?

"Look, Alex, I want to call off the bet. I just… I can't do that to Graham. I can't just shag him and be done with it. H-He means too much to me. You can keep your money and I'll keep mine. Th-This bet never happened."

“But you’re doing so well? Why quit now? The money’s basically in your hand.” He says that but there’s a tone in his voice that tells me he has some kind of ulterior motive. I don’t have time to try and figure it out.

“I just don’t feel right. I shouldn’t have agreed to the bet in the first place.” Alex looks me up and down with his arms loosely folded before he chuckles softly and nods.

“Fine. Your loss. Anything else I can help with?” My brain empties itself when he asks that, one singular thing popping into my mind.

“You wouldn’t have any protection would you?” I ask meekly, chewing my inner lip.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He giggles, leading me into the room.

Moments later, I’m skulking back to Graham’s room. When I open the door back up, the main light is dimmed and the bed is properly made. Graham lays in the middle of it with his eyes shut, one arm resting under his head and his hand slipped under his boxers, moving slowly. He’s touching himself. My stomach is filled with butterflies at the sight of this erotic image.

“Graham?” I whisper. He takes a glimpse of me and rests the moving hand behind his head, gazing as he nibbles his lip.

“Welcome back,” Graham sits up as his cheeks turn slightly pink. He must be embarrassed but playing it off as flirtation, “I didn’t scare you off earlier, did I? If you don’t want to do that, we don’t have to.”

“I do,” I run my fingers back through my hair before giving a shaky sigh, my body damn near buzzing with excitement, “I really, _really_ do.”

He gives a smile that seems almost shy but we both know damn well that he’s in charge of this show. I can hardly speak as he stands up and walks over to me, cupping the sides of my neck in his palms. Graham’s dark eyes are almost hidden by his fringe all but for an inch of length. That doesn’t stop him from piercing my soul with them before he focuses on my lips, his hot breath gracing them as I lean in to try and kiss him. He pulls back to tease me so I grip tightly at the front of his t-shirt and bring him back in. How dare he make me need him. It’s not fair. The tip of my tongue brushes the inner edge of his bottom lip before I tilt my head and initiate the kiss, practically begging for more with every movement I make. Graham sighs contentedly into the kiss and drops his hands down to my hips, pulling them close to his so much so that I can feel him hard against my crotch. I utter a tantalized moan at the pressure.

“I bet you love that, Day,” he murmurs warmly in my ear, “I bet you think about me when you’re alone in your room at night.” I had no idea that he can get like this when he’s turned on but it gets me insanely aroused. I’d give it all even just to straddle his lap and rock myself there till I come.

“I d-do. I touch myself,” pulling back to look up into his eyes while we grind our hips, I whisper in staggered gasps, “And when I do that, sometimes I finger myself and think about you f-... I think about you fucking me. About us making love to each other. I did it today just before dinner.”

“That’s it. No, that’s it,” Graham pulls my t-shirt off over my head and slides his palms down my back and to my arse, his thumbs hooking the elastic of my shorts as he drags them off of me. I’m totally bare aside from my beaded necklace. I return the favour, stripping him down slowly until we’re naked together for the first time. He traces his forefinger from my clavicle to my shoulder, from my shoulder to my bicep. He stretches out his fingers slightly to reach my nipple with his thumb and brush it lightly, “I’ve always wanted to see you naked.”

“You’re going to get to see a lot more of that if we keep this up.” I murmur. Graham holds onto the back of my neck with a desperate grip as he pulls me in for a sudden, deep kiss, causing me to moan a whimper into his mouth as he leads me to the bed and pushes me back onto the freshly-made bedding. I instinctively spread my legs as he crawls on top of me. This garners a soft giggle. 

“You’re too perfect.” My doe-eyed lover retrieves a small travel bottle from the top drawer of his nightstand and pops the cap open with his thumb. My lip must be starting to puff up just a touch from all the times I’ve bitten it tonight. It happens again as this gorgeous man coats two fingers in lube and presses them into me with great care. His movements are precise and cautious but thorough as he massages the muscle. Graham spreads his fingers, scissoring them lightly to give me more of a stretch.

God, it makes me fucking sweat and pant. He makes me moan like a whore on a whim; He does it like it’s nothing. Graham blesses me with tender, loving kisses all up my neck and even on my earlobe as he removes his fingers. He takes the foil sachet from the bed and unrolls the condom onto himself before returning to his position between my legs.

“Are you ready?” he mutters. I take a couple of deep breaths to help me mentally prepare.

“Yes, more than ever.”

Without a word more, Graham rests his elbow just above my shoulder on the blanket and kisses me deeply to help me stifle my moans as he pushes in inch by inch. He bottoms out and the front of his hips meet the underside of mine. Just as well my mouth is occupied because everyone in the house would have known I was getting fucked if we weren’t being more discrete. However, I’m already quaking enough as it is, clawing gently at Graham’s back as he pulls out nearly all the way just to start up his thrusting pace. The rhythm is slow but anchored and commanding. His motions are liquid smooth in a practised kind of way that I wouldn’t have expected from Graham. Things start to get real when he picks up the pace. I just know my neck will be florid with violet cause of the way he sucks on my skin and bites my hickeys. This cocktail of pain and pleasure fuels the fire in my gut. It’s building every second. Every moment.

“Grem, I-I-I…I lo-” I can barely utter a word that doesn’t blend in seamlessly with a moan

“I love you too.” He whispers through gritted teeth. His focus is incredible.

We change position a couple of times from missionary like this, to cowgirl, to doggy style and back to missionary once more. There’s nothing quite as intoxicating as the feeling of Graham’s hips rocking so hard he bruises my inner thighs.

Each time he gives me a harder thrust or fucks me faster, I let out an aching moan. So much for staying quiet. How can he expect me to do so when he’s this good? I could almost swear at one point that I had an out of body experience and I was able to see us tied up in this passionate tangle, his back moving to a steady rhythm while my legs shake and my toes curl. It feels like we’re fucking for hours (in the best way possible) before Graham re-angles his hips to direct his thrusting more upwards. The moment he alters the movement, pounding into my prostate and making me beg for relief, I feel a jolt in my body and it all comes crashing

down,

down,

 _down_.

“I'm... ‘M c-coming. God. Fuck. Fuck. O-Ooooh fuck! Ah! Ah!” I cry out without even a moment of hesitation. I must look like such a mess right now.

“Me too.” Graham somehow manages to maintain his composure for the most part as his rocking speeds up and we both reach a magnificent climax. We can hardly stop ourselves from kissing till our lips go numb as we slip into the golden afterglow. Graham only stops to pull out and remove the protection before he lays back down on top of me, delicately kissing my temple. His body is hot and damp against my own. I find it so comforting to finally be able to hold him close like this. No emotional restraints hold me back.I hardly know what to say as I comb my fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“Well, well, well.”

“Well, well, well indeed, sweet thing.” My heart does seventeen backflips to hear him say that in his husky, fucked-out murmur.

It isn’t long before the two of us succumb to the sweet caress of sleep’s promise of dreams and we nod right off, still laying here in this safe union of love. This truly does feel like I’ve found my home at last.

Saturday morning is spent wearing each other’s clothes. We shower together. We sing in my room. We make love about three more times throughout the day and relish in each other's passion. 

The only moment from that day that I don't spend beside Graham is the fifteen or so minutes that I take to have my evening smoke on the bench outside in the back garden. My mind is filled with peace even when a tall, slim figure sits down beside me, a cigarette of his own dangling precariously from his bottom lip. Alex seems smug and I can't particularly figure out why this would be the case.

"I suppose you and Graham are finally bedding each other." He mumbles as he lights his cigarette.

"We're dating now, yeah." It makes my heart tumble in my chest to be able to say that.

"Then my plan worked out," Alex smugly smiles to himself as he takes a drag of his cigarette, glancing over at me and giving a sniff of a laugh to see my incredulous look, "Well, I knew you had it bad for Graham. You should have seen the way you were goggling at him all of last year. So, I figured if I bet you couldn't sleep with Graham before I did, no doubt you'd finally work up the guts to tell him how you feel. I see it when you look at him, Dames. You love that boy."

All I can do is stare out at the garden in awe of this devious bastard. 

“You can’t blame me for implementing a bit of trickery. Pullin’ a few strings. I’m certain you’ve been dying for a chance to tell him you love him. I gave you that chance whether you knew it at the time or not.” I’m blown away how nonchalantly he says this. If I wasn’t so happy about the wonder and beauty that this experiment brought into my life, I’d probably tackle him to the grass for having played God with my love life.

“I should be mad at you. I should be downright furious.” I chuckle after letting out a soft wisp of smoke.

“You really should be, but you won’t. Cause when you go to sleep tonight, he’ll be there in your bed and his arms are going to be where you feel truly _alive_. Am I wrong?” he looks at me with the questioning gaze and raised eyebrow of a teacher. I shake my head. “Exactly. When you find a love like that, grab onto it and do not let go.”

Staring at Alex, I know that he’s right and I’m eternally grateful for what he’s pulled off. I think of Graham upstairs in my room, asleep in my bed having fallen asleep to the sound of my old records. Every second with him is like being reborn a thousand times over. As I listen to the chitters and warbles of songbirds coming home to roost for the evening, I take what’s probably going to be the last drag of my cigarette, exhaling smoothly and stubbing out the butt of it on the flagstones. 

This love business truly is a many-splendored thing.

_-fin-_


	25. Being Old Together (Gramon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends. I'm sorry it's been such a long wait for this new chapter but a lot went down in my personal life in late November and Christmas (and the lead up to it) has been a particularly busy-bee time for me so I decided I'd wait till just after Christmas to post this new chapter. I hope you like it. I wanted it to be extra soft and comfy.
> 
> It's set in the current day (2020). I know the title says "Being Old Together" but I thought I'd just make them oldER instead of old old. I hope that's alright. Happy holidays, everyone.
> 
> Also I'm trying something new and writing this in the third person as per recommendation from some of my writing buddies. Let me know how it sounds for the story xo

**Gramon**

Third Person POV

Graham didn’t feel old in his mind. He didn’t even feel too old in his body either. Everything worked more or less as it should. His legs kept his arse off the ground. His hands still wrapped comfortably around the neck of a guitar. His fingers still pressed deftly against the metal strings. When he looked in the mirror, however, that’s when he could see the changes. His nose seemed bigger for one. Perhaps losing the youthful fat in his face had slimmed that down and made his features more obvious? His eyes looked less sleepy and more so tired out. Graham wasn’t sure how to define the difference but he knew that the kind of fatigue his eyes showed when he was young was most definitely not the same as it was now. Not to mention the grey hairs that had appeared seemingly overnight and invaded Graham’s scalp. He didn’t particularly mind the grey hairs. They made him feel a little more sophisticated. More experienced in life.

Of the times that he did feel old, they mostly happened in the morning. Waking up took forever. Sitting up made it abundantly clear how stiff his back had gotten over the years. He didn’t always have the best posture and was certainly paying for it now. He had no idea how Damon could manage with such ease. “It must be the yoga,” he thought, “Keeps him limber.” Mornings were savoured like a fine wine, no moment left unappreciated. Graham would water his herb garden with loving care just after sunrise and start making breakfast for his husband and himself. The two of them lived part time in London and part time in LA, flying between the two seasonally. London for summers and LA for winters. They had recording areas and studios at both homes so there wasn’t a compromise of functionality between locations. It was expensive but they felt it was worth it.

The sex was slower. Far less frenzied than it had been in previous years. They would take their time to make each other feel just right. They could still overwhelm each other just like they had in younger years, the passionate spark still strong and alive. They still mixed it up too, trying new rooms, positions and techniques. “Never the same thing twice in a row.” was Damon’s feeling towards sex. Graham was just happy to still be attractive to him after nearly thirty years together. If he could get to the end of a long day, share a quiet climax with his husband and spend the rest of the evening peppering his face, neck and shoulders with delicate kisses, then he was happy. That was all he needed aside from food, water and a roof over his head. Once after a particularly hot and heavy morning encounter, the two of them laid in bed for the entirety of the day just holding the other close. Having time to spend with each other was new. When they first started out, they barely had a free minute to really be there with one another. Every kiss felt fleeting. Each embrace was a mirage that could disappear any moment. Now, they could dwell in the moment. Graham would trace Damon’s form with his artistic eye, running a fingertip slowly down his spine or across his clavicle. Every detail was sacred.

Time was a luxury that they could not afford back in the heydays of Blur. This thing they had created for fun had become something so much larger than they ever could have possibly imagined. The leviathan they had spawned took over many aspects of their lives and would do so for the best part of fifteen years until the hiatus of 2003. Of course Damon would still be occupied with his multitudes of side projects and collaborations but at the very least, they could make their own hours and control the pace at which they took each task. 

It hadn’t always been a walk in the park. They both had their various demons throughout the years. Damon would get calls in the middle of the night from friends saying they saw Graham falling out of cabs or God forbid having run-ins with them. He’d have to drive to whichever club he was last seen at and try to find his now husband wandering about the streets from venue to venue. He couldn’t even get mad at Graham when he was in this state because he wouldn’t even understand why Damon was so upset and by the time the morning came, he’d still be hurting inside but would have calmed down too much to make a whole fuss about it. Thus, the cycle would repeat itself. “Next time, I’ll tell him.” Damon would say to himself. He’d lie. He had his own coping mechanisms but they usually came in the form of a syringe, a teaspoon and an afternoon spent laying on the floor in synthesised ecstasy. Graham knew. He'd always known. He pretended he didn’t notice the way his lover’s eyes had glazed over as he stared dreamily off into the middle distance while “watching TV”. Graham would come over to his boyfriend’s flat and just as he’d be arriving, a skinny, nervous looking young man would be leaving with his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his oversized jacket. The local skag dealer, no doubt. There was a period of a few months in which Damon would be passed out on the couch nine times out of ten that Graham arrived.

They broke up a few times throughout their relationship but as they got older, they realised just how much they needed each other. At first it started out as nothing. Mostly just drunken kisses at parties because the only time one could kiss a member of the same sex and not get called a fag was if one was completely shickered. Damon and Graham unknowingly took advantage of this. Then they’d start to go further. They’d drink beers till their cheeks were rosy then snog in the corner at parties, touching each other up more each time. It all started to become very confronting and real for them when they no longer needed the influence of their old friend amber to help them share a kiss. Then it was as though they’d been together for years. It just felt natural. Correct. Right.

Graham knew now that he could kiss Damon whenever he wanted. They could be sitting at the kitchen table doing the accounts together and all he’d have to do would be lean over and press his lips softly to the corner of his husband’s. So simple and sweet. There was no fear anymore. No hesitation or nerves or little voices in the back of his head saying “You’re out of your mind. He’ll hate you.” No, just peace, love and a soft, husky giggle. Graham would rub between Damon’s shoulder blades and they’d sit happily in the silence, going about their chores and enjoying the pure domestic bliss of it all. Feeling like normal people was a privilege they previously could not have afforded.

Today, they were doing the accounts together. A relatively mundane task, but even the most standard of chores could be made pleasant with the company of someone you love. A lazy morning had been spent sorting through bills, receipts and bank statements all in the name of admin. Damon found it atrociously boring. Graham could barely stand it. Having each other to help hack through it made the whole experience bearable.

“You know, I think I’m starting to come around to that mullet,” Graham spoke softly while he ran his fingers through the blonde’s hair “It’s got that kind of indie edge that looks good on you.”

Damon chuckled sheepishly.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure you’re not just humouring me but I still appreciate the sentiment,” He gave a pleasant smile as he looked up from the receipts and shared Graham’s warm, demure gaze, “Give us a kiss?”

This elicited a giggle from Graham quickly followed by a tender, lingering kiss. They loved taking everything slowly. Graham smiled into the kiss as they parted for just a brief moment before lapsing back into it. With little more than a light shift, they tilted their faces and kissed as though it was their first although they'd kissed many times before and would kiss many times after. Every single peck felt brand new and vital. Graham’s string calloused fingertips brushed softly against the stubble on Damon’s neck as he gestured to hold the side, thumb tucked just behind the angle of his jaw. Damon swore he could feel his heart skip a beat as his husband let out a subtle sigh.

There was no need to rush anymore.

As they eventually parted, Graham locked his eyes on that of his love. The eyebrows had thinned out slightly and fine lines had crept in around Damon’s eyes, forming crow’s feet whenever he smiled, but the baby blues still shone just as bright and lively as they had all those years ago when they’d first met.

“No one knows me like you do, Graham,” the older murmured “You’ve stuck around so long.”

Graham let out a humble chuckle and rested his head on Damon’s shoulder.

“Of course I have. I promised I’d always be here, so here I am. I’m always yours.”

_-fin-_


End file.
